Den of Thieves
by whytewytch
Summary: The continuing story of my OC, Dierdre, & how she is adjusting to married life with Allan. Will she settle down? Ha! Guy/OC in later chaps. Please note this is a romance & as such will have many sex scenes and sexual innuendo; rated MA. NOT a Robin fic!
1. Chapter 1: Ill

**Title: Den of Thieves**

**Chapter: One: ****Ill**** (1/?)**

**Rating: Mature (Graphic sex. It's not in every chapter, you perverts! lol)**

**Word Count: 1,370**

**Characters/Pairings: Allan A' Dale/Deirdre (O'Niall) A' Dale, Will/Djaq, Marian/Guy, Marian/Robin?**

**Summary: The continuing story of Allan A' Dale and my OC, Deirdre (O'Niall) A' Dale. Set during/after S2, my story has an entirely different ending. Deirdre and Allan are finally married, but are they truly safe? What will happen to Marian now that Deirdre is no longer around to distract Guy? Also, a budding romance between Will and Djaq.**

**Disclaimer: _Robin Hood BBC_ is copyrighted to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made (unless of course, the afore-mentioned companies have a spot open for a writer?).**

Chapter One: Ill

Deirdre didn't feel so good. Whatever it was that Much was cooking smelled vile and made her stomach roil in protest. The fact that her husband's arm was draped over her belly didn't help any either. His soft snoring, usually so endearing to her, was grating on her nerves, as was the breath he kept expelling that tickled the hair on the nape of her neck. She really was going to have to kill him. She wondered how long it would take to suffocate him if she put the pillow over his head, and if the noise he made would wake the rest of the gang.

Just then, another breeze blew the scent of the food toward the little bower in the camp where she and Allan slept in relative privacy. She scrambled quickly out from under Allan's arm, waking him in the process as her knee met his groin in her haste to escape. She ran quickly out of the camp, not making it as far as she would have liked before she hurled. Unfortunately, there was nothing left in her stomach and the acid she brought up burned horribly. She collapsed where she was, lying on her side, knees drawn up in misery as her husband limped up to her.

"Mornin' Luv," Allan gasped, cupping himself in pain.

She had been like this for days, but Djaq had found no sign of any illness—no fever, no spots, no coughing—just throwing up every single morning; by afternoon, Deirdre always felt better and by evening, she was laughing and joking and as frisky with her husband as a new wife should be.

She opened one eye to glare balefully at him.

Grimacing, Allan looked at his wife. "Look, I was thinkin' that maybe we should go see a doctor or somethin'."

Deirdre had an innate distrust of doctors in general, handed down from her mother. Kitchen life naturally lent itself to learning about herbs, and Brianna O'Niall, former kitchen girl, had taught her daughter to shun the doctors and their "learning." Deirdre had seen too many people die from being bled by doctors, people who she was certain would have lived had it not been for the doctor's "help".

"Do you love me so little, then, Allan A' Dale?" Deirdre grumbled at him.

Allan lowered his eyebrows in consternation. "What are you on about?"

"You would bring me to a legalized murderer?" Deirdre shut her eyes again as another wave of nausea hit.

Allan looked helplessly down at his wife, then crouched beside her to rub her back.

Deirdre hissed and slapped at his hand. "Don't _touch_ me!"

"Deirdre, I want to 'elp you. I can't stand seein' you this way. Tell me what I can do if I can't bring you to a doctor and I'll do it, I swear!"

Deirdre sat back on her haunches, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and swallowing noisily. She looked up at the face of her husband, at the misery etched there, and felt bad for him. He really _did_ love her, she knew that, but her recent bouts of illness had made her irritable and snappish. She sighed. He was right, they had to do something—he didn't deserve to be treated this way by her.

"An herbalist," she muttered.

"What?"

"If you can find an herbalist, someone who knows about herbs and such. A wisewoman or a kitchen girl or a midwife. I'll see them."

Allan's face lit up with his huge grin. Deirdre's breath caught in her throat—when he smiled like that, the smile that went to his eyes and lit them up like torches on a cool night, he was so handsome that she felt lucky to have caught his eye. So what if she could be sitting in Locksley Manor as lady of the house? She would choose Allan and the forest every time over Guy of Gisbourne and a comfortable manor. She felt her body begin to warm, her breath hitch and was suddenly sorry for telling him not to touch her; at this moment, she wanted nothing so much as his hands all over her. She smiled back at him coyly, letting her eyes drop slowly over his body and back to his face, noting with satisfaction the impact her obvious desire had on him.

Allan's smile faltered as Deirdre looked him up and down like he was a stallion at the sales, her smile knowing. Oh sure, she'd just vomited and probably still had the taste in her mouth, but suddenly that didn't matter to him. Every time Deirdre looked at him like that, he wanted to take her then and there. After their enforced abstinence in the castle, being able to make love to her was freedom—a freedom he enjoyed as often as possible. So he'd avoid kissing her mouth. There were other, quite interesting places, he could kiss on her body and he grew hard just thinking about it.

Seemingly from nowhere, Djaq arrived with a cup of tea. Deirdre took it from her hands, flushing at the thought of what the Saracen woman would have seen if she had arrived in just a few more minutes.

"I thought you could use this." Djaq handed the cup to Deirdre, who sipped hesitantly. "It's good, no? I put the ginger in it, the way you like it, to help calm your stomach." Djaq looked from Deirdre's flushed face to Allan's, realizing too late that she had probably interrupted something. She smiled to herself, thinking that it was difficult to _not_ interrupt Deirdre and Allan showing their affection to one another these days. They were head over heels in love, they had been married properly by a priest and at the prince's behest, and Deirdre's father and family were safe from reprisals for Deirdre's thievery. Sure, that was because her father had been forced to disown her, but Deirdre seemed to feel that Fàelàn O'Niall had not disowned her in his heart and so she was content with her lot. Djaq smiled as Allan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well, um, I, ah…I think I'll go get some firewood."

Deirdre brightened immediately. Whenever they wanted to wander off alone, they would "gather firewood." She was feeling a bit better now as the tea took effect and she knew the fresh air would help.

"I think I'll go with you. The walk'll do me good." She held out her hand and Allan took it with a huge grin on his face as he helped her to her feet.

Djaq walked back to camp, where Much was doling out the breakfast.

"Where are Allan and Deirdre?" he asked innocently.

Djaq smiled, coloring a bit as Will looked over at her. "They are…gathering firewood."

Much sighed in exasperation. "But we already have plenty of…oh."

At Robin's huge grin, Much had caught on.

"You know, at the rate that they're…gathering firewood…we'll have enough to heat the whole of Nottinghamshire for the entire winter before long," Much grumbled, redistributing the food.

"Much, leave the food!" Robin stopped his former servant. "You know how hungry they are when they come back from their...excursions," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Much continued muttering as he handed plates to everyone. "Well, Deirdre can make her own food, since the smell of mine makes her so ill these days," he added grumpily.

The gang laughed, but ate the food quickly, soothing Much's hurt feelings.

**A/N: Ah, newlyweds! As I said, the graphic sex is not in every chapter--I have to ramp up to it, but I don't think you'll be disappointed. Please R & R!**


	2. Chapter 2: Gathering Firewood

Chapter Two: Gathering Firewood

Allan rolled over, pulling Deirdre on top of him and wrapping his cloak around them. He adored making love to her; when he was inside of her and she was squeezing him tight, he felt whole and when she cried out his name, he felt like he was worth something again. He kissed the top of her head as it lay on his chest, running his fingers through her mussed-up hair. She smiled dreamily against his smooth chest before she teasingly pinched his nipple.

"Ow, what was that for?"

Giggling, Deirdre kissed the nipple, watching it harden in the sudden coolness when the air hit it again.

"I'm just happy, is all."

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll 'ave to be careful to not make you _too_ 'appy. Lord knows what you'll do to me then!"

He couldn't keep a straight face as she grinned up at him. They had seen too much of drama in the castle, too much unhappiness; it was a relief to be able to tease and laugh with her. He sighed in contentment as he held her close, stroking her side with his other hand. His fingers reached her belly and he frowned. She had definitely lost weight since their wedding night when they had escaped to the forest; he could feel her ribs, and her belly seemed harder than ever under the skin. He would have loved to stay here in their cave all day, but he needed to find out why she was sick all the time and fix it.

Deirdre felt his body go tense under her as his hand stroked across her belly. She sighed and kissed his chest, trying to relax him so he wouldn't think of her promise. Although she had agreed to see a healer, Deirdre still balked at the idea. None of the others, including Allan seemed to be sick, so she knew she hadn't given them anything.

All she knew was, she had never felt this bad in her life, and the last time she had seen anyone this sick, they had died within the month. Her own illness had lasted longer than that already, so if she was dying, she just wanted to enjoy her last days with Allan as much as possible without pesky healers messing things up with their vile concoctions.

Allan rolled her off of him, kissing her soundly, knowing that she would still have to be forced to go see the healer. He grinned ruefully to himself; if nothing else, her stubbornness made her somewhat predictable, a fact for which he was glad since the rest of the time she was completely _un_predictable. He caught her hands as they roamed down his body, and pulled away from the kiss she had deepened. He knew she was trying to put off the inevitable and he was dangerously tempted to give in and just enjoy, as he always did. This was about Deirdre's health though, possibly her life, and he refused to play with that.

"Time to go, Luv," he breathed in her ear, nipping it lightly before he pulled away, nearly falling over the leg she had hooked around his thigh. He caught his balance and rose to stand over her, smiling at her reproachfully.

"Can't we stay here instead, Muirnín?" Allan had learned very little Irish, mostly the words of endearment she used for him, like "sweetheart" and "my love"; he had picked up some not so nice words she used for him on occasion as well.

Deirdre yawned and stretched sleepily, watching in satisfaction as her body made his react. His breathing became more labored and he began to harden again as he watched her, but then he saw her ribs and he turned away, gathering her clothes and throwing them at her while he quickly put his own back on.

"We can't. Get dressed so we can go find us a healer." His answer was curt as he tried to keep from launching himself at her again.

Deirdre pouted, but did as he bade her. They left and made their way back to the camp, picking up some firewood along the way.

Back at camp, Much was puttering busily, unhappily eyeing the two plates of food that had yet to be eaten. He heard Deirdre and Allan talking and laughing as they came up the hill and deposited their load with the growing pile of branches and twigs. Much gave them a disapproving look.

"That's not a lot of firewood for how long you were gone," he snipped.

Allan and Deirdre laughed, Deirdre looking at the ground and coloring before losing all color at the sight of the plates of food. Allan was immediately sober as he pulled her away from the food and sat her down. He grabbed a chunk of bread and gave her a small piece, no bigger than a pea, watching her place it in her mouth and nearly choke on it. She swallowed dutifully as she looked up at his worried face. He made her eat another piece, taking a small bite for himself.

Much called over, "Don't you want the eg…?"

"Don't say it! Don't even say that word, please Much," she begged, holding up a hand as she struggled to swallow the small piece of bread in her mouth.

Allan shook his head, shooting Much a look that asked if he were some kind of idiot, while he rubbed Deirdre's back and spoke soothingly to her. He handed her the tea that Djaq tried to keep handy for her since they had discovered that mead made her sick too.

Allan looked up at Robin. The helplessness on his friend's face made Robin's own heart sore.

"Robin, I'm takin' Deirdre to Nottingham today, to find a healer."

"No!" Deirdre spat out vehemently.

Allan turned an incredulous gaze upon his wife. "But you promised you'd see a healer. Please Deirdre. For me."

"Oh Allan, of course I'll see a healer, just not in Nottingham. It's still far too dangerous for us to go there. If the sheriff or Guy finds out that we're there, we're as good as dead."

Allan closed his eyes in pain, then looked at Robin hopefully as the former lord of Locksley spoke up.

"There's a woman who lives outside Nettlestone. Do you remember Matilda?"

Allan nodded. "She's the one the sheriff was dunkin' in Locksley Pond, ain't she?"

"She is."

No one really liked to speak of that time, the last day Allan had been with them as one of the gang before he had become Sir Guy's man, the day he had broken their trust. Allan was back now and though that day was a part of their shared memories, they tried to avoid speaking of it as much as possible.

"She had a cousin, Madeline, who lived in the woods near Nettlestone. There were whispers of witchcraft, that's why she doesn't live in Nettlestone itself anymore, but she was as good a healer as Matilda."

Robin watched as Allan blanched at the mention of witchcraft. He knew his friend was superstitious, but with Matilda living in Scarborough now, Madeline was the best healer in the area.

Allan's face showed his indecision—would Deirdre be in more danger from her illness or from a possible witch? One look at his wife, pale and trembling and trying desperately to swallow more bread for him, and Allan's decision was made.

"Tell me where. I'll find 'er. You lot don't need to come with."

Much expelled a breath in relief. "Well, I'll just get to work on hunting down dinner then, shall I?"

Robin looked at Allan with raised eyebrows. "If you think I'm going to let you go alone, you're wrong, Allan."

Allan couldn't help his own sigh of relief, his eyes grateful as he looked at his friend. "Thanks Robin."

Allan picked up Deirdre and, along with Djaq and Will, followed Robin to Madeline's hut. Much and Little John chose to stay behind.

* * *

**A/N: I was going to have the healer be Matilda, but thought that after her run-in with the sheriff, she probably beat feet out of Nottingham quickly, along with her daughter and granddaughter.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Witch

**A/N: WARNING--Graphic sex scenes will be appearing from this chapter on; not every chapter, but they are there. For those of you who have been waiting, I hope you enjoy. Please read & review!**

Chapter Three: The Witch

"You know, you don't need to carry me," Deirdre murmured in Allan's ear, snuggling close to contradict her words.

"You 'aven't eaten in days. You can barely walk," he growled back at her, worry pulling his brow down.

She nuzzled his neck, nipping playfully at his earlobe, making him stumble and nearly fall. She squealed and held tight to him as he righted himself and glared at her.

"Are you tryin' to break my neck or yours?"

"Neither. I like your neck too much. It's yummy," she breathed into his ear again, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Lord, woman, I dunno what's gotten into you..." he started.

Deirdre kissed his neck and ear again. "I wish you would," she whispered.

Allan nearly choked and decided it would be best to continue the rest of the trip in silence. He walked stoically on as Robin, Will and Djaq sniggered at his discomfort.

A short while later, they came to a small clearing; at the far end stood a little hut that was barely discernable with all the ivy climbing up its sides. Next to the hut, a woman with brown hair that was turning gray knelt in the dirt of a small herb garden. When she didn't move at their approach, Robin cleared his throat.

"I know you're there. Now what is it you want?" the woman asked in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

Allan stiffened, holding Deirdre closer, and began whispering a Hail Mary.

The woman chuckled. "I'm no witch, young man. I saw you come out of the forest from the corner of my eye." Leaning back on her haunches and wiping the dirt from her hands onto her skirt, she turned fully to face them. Her face had once been pretty, but time had taken its toll, wrinkling the skin around her eyes and her mouth. Those same green eyes sparkled merrily and Robin decided he liked this woman very much.

"So, are you injured?" Madeline asked of Deirdre, who had raised her hand to her forehead in respect. Allan stared at his wife incredulously as she made the pagan sign as easily as she did the points of the cross.

"No."

"Then why's he carryin' you like that? Did he lose a bet?"

Deirdre laughed warmly and Allan colored.

"Look, she's been sick alright. She's too weak to walk so far."

"Are you planning on eatin' for her too or just doin' the walkin' and the talkin'?"

"That's the problem—she don't eat and what she does she don't keep down," Allan retorted angrily.

"I see. Well, she don't look sick. Set her down by the door there." The midwife indicated a bench by the front door of the hut.

Madeline rose and came over to look at Deirdre. Taking Deirdre's chin in her hand, the older woman looked into Deirdre's eyes, then pushed against her abdomen.

"Hmmm. I thought as much."

Deirdre looked at Madeline in confusion. "What is it, Mother?"

Allan, who was hovering protectively, broke in.

"Could you give us a minute?" he asked Madeline, then sat down by Deirdre on the bench as the healer moved away.

"Are you sure this is wise? I mean, what was all that with makin' that sign and callin' 'er 'Mother'? I thought you was Christian." He looked furtively toward the older woman as he spoke to Deirdre.

Deirdre smiled at her husband. "Of course I'm Christian, Allan."

Allan visibly relaxed, and then his body tightened again as she added, "But my mom taught me the old ways also. I trust her, Allan. And I won't go see some…_doctor_." She said the last word like it was a curse.

Allan frowned, but he could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that he was out of options in this case.

"Well all right, but if she turns me into a frog, try not to roll over onto me at night and squish me?"

Deirdre hugged Allan, nuzzling his neck. "That's not usually what you say," she spoke softly into his ear, causing him to redden all the way to his collar.

Madeline broke in. "That'll be enough of that for the time bein'. That's how you got in this spot in the first place."

"What do you mean?" the couple asked in unison.

"I mean she's breedin' you bloody fools!" Madeline looked at Djaq in disdain. "_You_ didn't know either? I mean, I expect men to be thick, but…"

"Hey now!" Robin exclaimed as Will colored and Djaq stuttered out a response.

"I've only healed men, never women."

Madeline sighed, rolling her eyes skyward.

"So you've been sick nearly every mornin', am I right?"

Deirdre nodded.

"And your stomach is hard." She turned her gaze to Allan. "Didn't you notice your wife was unusually…friendly?"

"Well, no. I mean, we're new married, so I just thought…"

Madeline sighed again, deeper this time, shaking her head. "Men!" she spat the word out the way Deirdre had said "doctor."

"And you," she added, glaring at Deirdre, "didn't your mother ever teach about what goes on between a man and a woman? What signs to look for to tell you that you're carryin' his child?"

Deirdre shook her head, looking guilty. "I think she tried, but it all sounded so…boring. Mind, I'd seen plenty of horses breeding, and dogs, but they didn't get sick when they were pregnant."

Will and Djaq looked uncomfortably away while Robin tried desperately to hold in his laughter, particularly at the incredulous look on Allan's face.

Allan thought back to their wedding night and Deirdre's reaction when he had laid her on her back to make love to her. It explained a lot about why she had thought he would mount her from behind—_dogs and horses, bloody Hell! _He smiled ruefully to himself.

_They snuck back from the chapel, breathless with excitement over what they had just done; she was a lady, he was a peasant, and they had just spoken vows to one another that would bind them together for life. As the door to their little hideaway closed, Allan pulled Deirdre close to him, holding her as he pressed his lips to hers, opening her mouth and delving deeply, almost ferociously. _

_After a few moments, Allan began fumbling with the ties to her bodice; Deirdre stepped back and pushed his hands away, untying the laces herself, shrugging out of the bodice and letting it fall to the floor along with her over-skirt. Allan's breath hitched as he watched Deirdre, who licked her lips nervously, then began to worry her lower lip, uncertain what to do next._

_Allan saved her from her awkward moment by moving closer again and kissing her as his hands covered her shoulders, pushing the material of her shift from her body and letting it, too, fall to the floor. Allan's breathing became labored as he took in the sight of his new wife standing naked before him, her nipples hard in the coolness of the room, her long hair framing her breasts, seeming to offer them to him. The light from the full moon was just enough for him to see the dark thatch of hair between her legs as his gaze moved down her body. He grinned as he came to her still boot-clad feet and crouched down to lay her shift on the floor, reaching up a hand to hers to pull her down to lay on the make-shift bed. He unlaced her boots, pulling them off one at a time and lightly tickling each foot as he did so to relax her. Deirdre giggled quietly, whispering for him to stop; he did as she requested and covered her body with his instead, kissing her deeply again._

_Deirdre groaned and writhed underneath him, desperately wanting to feel his skin on hers. She began to unbuckle his shirt, but her fingers were clumsy, whether from the cold or her nerves, she did not know. Allan pulled away long enough to sit on his haunches and quickly discard both of his shirts, then sat back on his bottom to remove his boots. He moved in to kiss Deirdre hungrily before wrenching himself away to stand and drop his pants to the floor, kicking them aside impatiently as one leg would have clung to his foot. _

_Deirdre inhaled sharply; she had seen cocks on dogs and stallions as they were mounting their bitches and mares, but never had she seen one on a man before. While Allan was thankfully no stallion, she still grew nervous at the size of him as she thought of the relative size of where he intended to put it. She swallowed as he again lowered himself to kneel between her legs, laying his body atop hers._

"_It's all right, Luv," he whispered to her soothingly, bending to kiss her face, her ears, her neck. As he worked his way lower, Deirdre almost cried out in pleasure when he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking it into a taut peak. Her fingers gripped his hair and she sucked in a breath as he moved to her other nipple, tasting and teasing._

"_Ya like that, do ya?" he asked after a bit, grinning wickedly as all she could do was nod. He moved his mouth in slow circles lower and lower, nudging her leg aside as he licked and kissed and lightly bit the joint where her thigh met her torso. Kissing his way across her belly, he nudged her other leg over, repeating the process there. _

_Allan moved from between her legs to crouch beside her, his right arm laying over her ribs as he caressed a nipple, the fingers of his left hand stroking lightly over her belly and inner thighs as he continued to kiss and lick her belly and ribs. Deirdre cried out as his hand found her damp thatch and opened it with a bold finger; Allan moved quickly to clamp his right hand over her mouth. _

_He chuckled softly. "You'll get us in trouble if you can't stop that noise, Luv."_

"_I'm sorry, Allan, it just feels so good," she whimpered, as he released his hold on her mouth. _

"_Just wait, it gets better," he promised, easing his finger all the way inside of her, watching her squirm as he pushed a second finger into her as well._

"_Allan," she begged, not knowing exactly what it was she was begging for. She did know she wanted him to mount her, so she rolled over quickly, dislodging his fingers as she came up on her hands and knees._

"_Where're you goin'?" Allan asked in confusion, reaching for an ankle._

"_Nowhere. I thought…" Deirdre was too embarrassed to go on._

"_Come 'ere!" Allan grinned at her, thinking she was scared. "Ya know I ain't gonna hurt ya." He pulled Deirdre close to him, nuzzling her neck again as he lay between her legs. _

"_Put yur ankles on my back, there's a girl," he coaxed as he wrapped her legs around his torso._

_She felt the head of his cock push against her folds, then through them as he gently eased into her. He paused and whispered in her ear._

"_I lied a bit, Luv; it'll hurt, but just for a minute, then it'll be over and it'll just feel good again." At her wide-eyed look, he added, "You remember how my fingers felt?"_

_Deirdre nodded, swallowing slightly._

"_Well, there's lots more where that came from. Just relax and trust me, eh?" He kissed her lightly._

"_I do trust you, Allan," she whispered._

_Allan captured her mouth with his as he thrust quickly and deeply into her, trying to make it as fast as possible to minimize her pain. _

_Deirdre cried out in his mouth as she felt him rip through her virginity, and then stop. He waited for her body to adjust to his, waited until he felt her relax beneath him before releasing her mouth._

"_Are ya all right?"_

"_Yeah. It did hurt."_

"_And now?"_

_Deirdre gave an experimental wiggle to her hips that almost sent Allan over the edge._

"_No. Not now. It feels…" he watched her color in embarrassment, "good. Better than the fingers."_

_He chuckled low in his throat. "I should 'ope so! How's this?" He moved his own hips, pushing deeper into her body, watching the emotions play across her face._

"_Oh, that's…wow."_

_Allan grinned in pure male satisfaction as he drove into her, slowly entering her body until his cock was buried in her. Deirdre writhed underneath him, overcome by pleasure; she whimpered in loss as he withdrew from her just as unhurriedly as he had entered her. As he pushed into her again, his actions still deliberate, she sighed her approval, reaching out to run her hands along his muscular arms, up to his shoulders. Allan pulled out again, chuckling as her ankles locked around the small of his back in an effort to bring him back into her._

"_Now, now, Luv. Patience."_

"_I don't want to be patient, Allan," she pouted at him, and he found himself unable to fight her. _

_He had wanted to go easy on her since it was her first time, but her obvious need, coupled with his, on top of the fact that he had never really been one to resist temptation, had him pushing back into her a bit quicker and more forcefully this time. He brought his mouth down on hers in a crushing kiss. _

"_Remember, you asked for it," he warned, growling against her mouth as he increased the tempo, thrusting into her over and over, harder and faster, until he felt her smooth channel clamp against him even tighter as she whimpered and gasped in his ear, calling his name. He thrust one last time, pushing deeper as he buried himself in her body, filling his wife with his seed for the first time._

He still got hard thinking of that night, of her innocence and her willingness to learn; they had made love once more before the pre-dawn had sent them scurrying to their rooms. At the time, Allan had only thought that Deirdre had been trying to escape him by getting up on all fours; now he realized that she had been getting into position for him to mount her. He shook his head in wonder; they had been married officially for nearly two months now, had been hand-fasted for six weeks before that, and known each other since the previous Christmas, but Deirdre still surprised him every so often.

Madeline gave Deirdre a look that would have intelligent children scurrying for cover. "Come with me, child," she sighed, leading Deirdre into the hut. "I can see I've a lot to teach you." As soon as they disappeared, Robin's shoulders began shaking. Allan got up and approached his friend quizzically.

"Robin?"

Robin turned a face to Allan that was nearly bursting with mirth—his eyes were bright, the lashes fringed by tears as he tried desperately not to laugh aloud, while small sounds escaped his compressed lips.

Allan rolled his eyes. "Come on, Robin, that's not funny."

"Of course not," Robin responded tightly, bowing his head as more snickers escaped his mouth, and then collapsed where he was, howling with laughter.

Allan glared at his friend and walked away from them all. A baby. This time it was real if the old woman was to be believed. He smiled a small, proud smile to himself.

* * *

Inside the cottage, Madeline fed Deirdre some broth with vegetables in it.

"You eat broth and bread and you'll be all right. When was your last moon flow?"

Deirdre shook her head. "I don't know. A couple of months maybe."

Madeline felt Deirdre's belly again. "Aye, you'll be delivered in late winter, by the looks of it. It's just summer now, you've been without your flow for a month or two, so by a month after the new year you should be delivered. That means you've only a few more weeks of feelin' sick to go, then you should be better. You come back and see me every fortnight so I can check on you, understand?"

Deirdre nodded her head, sipping on the broth, which was delicious and wasn't making her feel sick. At least now she knew why she had been so ill, as Madeline began to explain the differences between animals and people when it came to babies.


	4. Chapter 4: Friendship

Chapter Four: Friendship

Guy closed his braes as he turned from the red-haired girl. The best part about her was that she looked nothing like Marian or Deirdre. He found her to be entertaining and eager to please—a nice change. Since she had been disowned and was now a hunted outlaw, Deirdre held no interest for him anymore. Sure, he would love to get his hands on her just once—but marriage to her was no longer an option since she would bring trouble rather than power. He began to wonder if he ought to pursue Marian again—she only brought Knighton, but it was better than nothing. He waved at the girl, dismissing her, as she bobbed a curtsey. Perhaps it was time to have a little conversation with Marian; he smiled to himself as he went off to look for her.

* * *

Marian was at the stables, getting her horse ready in order to go for a ride; she could let the stable boy do it she knew, but she loved to groom the horse herself. The little gray mare had once belonged to Deirdre, but when she had escaped from Nottingham with the gang last month, Deirdre had had no choice but to leave Alemah behind. Thinking of her friend, Marian smiled to herself. Thanks to Deirdre, Marian seemed nearly trustworthy in the eyes of the sheriff and Guy, and many of Marian's former restrictions had been loosened.

"Marian."

She was startled out of her reverie as Guy appeared behind her. _If you speak the name of the Devil..._, she thought blackly. Guy had been keeping to himself since Deirdre had left; his sudden appearance did not bode well in Marian's mind.

"Sir Guy, I did not hear you come in," she chided as she stroked the mare to calm her back down.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you. Are you going somewhere?"

Guy's stare was bold and Marian found that she was uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I was just going to take a little ride. It is warm today inside the town and I thought to catch some breezes and cool down."

"That sounds like a fine idea. I'll go with you." Guy motioned for a stable boy to bring his own stallion out.

"Really, Sir Guy, I was hoping for some time alone as well."

"You spend too much time alone lately. I know you were friends with Deirdre. Her change in status must be very upsetting to you. The fact that she passed herself off as a high-born lady while she was rolling in the hay with _Allan_ the whole time must have upset you terribly." Guy's tone was acerbic, reflecting his own feelings; Marian thought it best to agree while she stayed as close on the edge of truth as she could.

"Yes, well, the whole thing _was_ a bit of a disappointment, I suppose." A disappointment that she got caught, a disappointment that she was disowned, a disappointment that she was outlawed--yes, the whole thing was a disappointment.

"Let me ride with you, Marian. Perhaps we could renew our…friendship." Guy cocked his head and smiled warmly at her, doing his best to be charming.

Marian sighed, knowing in the end that she would give in, but unable to resist a little dig. "So is our friendship only important to you when there are no pretty, rich girls with powerful fathers around?"

Guy smiled ruefully—he should have known Marian would give him a hard time about his attempt to marry Deirdre.

"Marian, are you jealous?" He quirked an eyebrow at her as she looked down, blushing. "You know how much my family's good name means to me. You showed no signs of wanting to help me, so Deirdre was a quick solution. I did not have feelings for her the way I do for you—it would have been a marriage of convenience only. Please let me make it up to you. Let us become friends again." He raised her chin with his gloved hand and stared earnestly into her eyes.

Marian smiled hesitantly at him, swallowed and nodded her assent. Guy's lips quirked up as he ordered the stable boy to help her tack up her horse and then helped her to mount.

* * *

Allan and Deirdre walked back to camp hand in hand, dawdling behind the others; Robin couldn't seem to stop grinning, while Will and Djaq seemed suddenly uncomfortable in each other's presence.

As they drew closer, the smell of something cooking caught in Deirdre's nostrils—she didn't feel sick, but it reminded her that she had at least one more month of this morning sickness according to Madeline.

"Allan?"

"Yeah, Luv."

Deirdre peeked at him out of the corner of her eye and he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Allan, you know how I'm sick every morning?"

He sobered a bit as he responded, nodding his head.

"Yeah, what of it? Madeline says it's normal, don't she?"

"Yes, yes, it's normal, but…well, I was thinking. I don't like it."

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but what can you do about it?"

"I can leave."

"What?!"

Allan stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face her as he grabbed her arm to turn and stop her as well. She was worrying her lower lip and with Deirdre that was never a good sign—it meant she was thinking. Deirdre thinking was usually Deirdre plotting some monumentally foolish thing. There were times when Allan knew exactly why Fàelàn O'Niall had whispered "And may God have mercy on your soul" in his ear as the older man had given him his daughter at their wedding. Sometimes, Deirdre was like a frozen-over lake—beautiful and fun, but you never knew when you were going to slip and fall or crack the ice and go under.

"What are you on about now? You're not goin' anywhere."

"I don't mean to go far. I'll just stay in our cave until the morning sickness part is done."

Thinking about what Madeline had said about the next few months and picturing pregnant women in her mind, Deirdre amended, "Or just 'til the baby's born."

"Deirdre, you can't be serious. You're staying with us and there's an end to it."

"But Allan…"

Allan placed his fingers on her lips and raised his eyebrows at her, lowering his head as he did so to look into her eyes. He replaced his fingers with his lips as he kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her face.

"Now I'll not hear any more talk of you movin' to the cave, understood?"

Deirdre sighed, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"All right Allan, no more talk of moving to the cave, I promise."

He smiled at her and kissed her forehead before they entered the camp.

Much somehow managed to look relieved and stressed at the same time over Allan and Deirdre's announcement. He was relieved that his cooking was not the real source of Deirdre's illness, that the smells were making her ill because she was newly pregnant. He was also stressed that Deirdre was pregnant. He loved children, but the idea of a baby in the outlaw camp raised all sorts of problems, not the least of which being this particular child's parentage—the poor thing wouldn't stand a chance with Allan as his father and Deirdre his mother.

Robin was having similar thoughts about the danger of a baby in the outlaw camp. He had been happy for Allan and Deirdre at first, but the more he thought of it, the more he believed that this was not a good situation. He remembered Seth and how much more difficult things had been for that short time. Not only that, but the situation also begged the question--if Allan ever had to make a choice between his wife and baby or the gang…well, Robin was absolutely certain who would lose in that case.

Little John had gone for a walk, the news of Allan and Deirdre's baby a sore reminder of the son he had known for so short a time, the son he would likely never see again. He knew Alice was happy now with the bowmaker she had married and that the man was a good father to little Little John, but it didn't stop him from missing his wife and boy.

Will was whittling an arrow while he thought through his jumbled emotions. He loved Djaq—this he had known for some time, but Deirdre and Allan had brought so much chaos with them between her arrival in the camp, Allan's rescue and reunion with the gang, their wedding, her outlawry, and now the baby—the time never seemed right to tell Djaq how he felt about her. He would tell her tonight, straight away after dinner.

Djaq was out collecting the herbs for her medicines. She stopped a moment, resting on her haunches as she thought of the look on Will's face when Madeline had announced that Deirdre was pregnant. He had had a look of shock, but also of happiness. Will was young, but Djaq was certain he would make an excellent father one day. She caught herself imagining that _she_ would be the one to tell him that she was carrying his child and smiled at her own silliness.


	5. Chapter 5: The Stream

Chapter Five: The Stream

All during dinner, everyone was quiet, driving Much completely insane; the only one even willing to talk was Deirdre, and she was distracted by the exchange of silly grins she had going on with Allan. Will and Djaq kept shooting each other silent looks; every so often they would catch each other and then they both would color in embarrassment. Robin and Little John each seemed lost in thought as they stared into the fire.

"So did Madeline say when the baby was due?" Much asked, to break the silence.

Deirdre and Allan had been smiling at each other again.

"Hmm?" asked Allan without looking away from Deirdre's face.

Much sighed in aggravation. "I said, did Madeline say when the baby was due?"

Deirdre cleared her throat, seeming to make an effort to tear her eyes away from Allan's.

"Um, yeah. She said mid-winter probably, after the New Year."

"So then, there's plenty of time. Plenty of time," Much spluttered nervously.

"Plenty of time for what?" Allan looked at Much askance.

Much was good and truly flustered now; he didn't know why he had said "plenty of time" himself, so he had no answer. He jumped up and strode around, collecting the gang's plates—some of them were even finished. "I…I don't know. There's just plenty of time is all."

Allan raised an eloquent eyebrow at Much, pulling back his still-full plate as Much grabbed at it, then reaching out his left arm to block Much from grabbing Deirdre's half-done meal as well. Agitated, Much strode off to the stream to clean the plates he _had _managed to acquire.

Will stood up and looked down at Djaq. "Djaq, can I talk to you about something?"

Djaq raised her eyes innocently, "Of course."

Will pointed with a movement of his head and left camp, followed by Djaq. Robin watched them go, a frown on his face. Deirdre and Allan soon finished eating and left camp to wash their own plates at the stream; they passed Much on his way back, who glanced at their plates sardonically before continuing on his way.

At the stream, Deirdre took Allan's plate and sat on her knees beside the water to wash the two dishes; when she was done, she placed them on the grass beside her. She dipped her hands in the cool water, cupping it to splash her face, and then sat back on her haunches, sighing in pleasure. The day had been hot, even in the forest, and the water felt like heaven; she decided that since it was only Allan and herself, she would strip down and go for a swim before bedtime.

Allan's eyes widened in surprise and pleasure as Deirdre stood up and began to remove her clothes. He watched as she stepped into the stream before turning to him with a smile.

"Care to join me?"

Allan could not seem to get out of his own clothes fast enough, and then he, too, was in the water. It was an odd sensation—the sight of his wife had him fully aroused, but as the cold water hit his balls, they tried to contract away from it. He kept walking, figuring the problem would solve itself once Deirdre wrapped her legs around him. As he came closer, Deirdre swam up to him with a smile, grabbing his hips and pulling her body up his. Allan's breathing became more rapid as her glistening breasts brushed against first his hardening member, then his belly, and then his chest; she stood, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him deeply. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer as his finger delved into her soft channel, making her wiggle and moan into his mouth in pleasure. He added another finger, thrusting them slowly in and out of her as she bucked against him.

"More, Allan. I want more," she whispered in his ear.

He gave her more, but not what she wanted, adding another finger and thrusting them harder and faster, watching her face as her release came and she tightened around his fingers before collapsing against him, trying to slow her breathing. Grinning, he removed his fingers and began stroking her back, holding her close as his erection strained against her warm nether lips, demanding access.

He pulled her hips down, pushing himself slowly into her, and was rewarded by her gasp of pleasure as he opened her up. Once he was buried inside of her, he kissed her gently, then just as slowly began to withdraw until just the tip was still in her. He moved to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear as he eased back into her, keeping his motions languid as she writhed against him, trying to increase their pace.

"Easy, Luv." It seemed like he was always counseling her to be patient when they made love.

"You know I have no patience when you're inside me, Allan A' Dale," Deirdre pouted.

He chuckled softly, moving his lips down to tug on a rock hard nipple. "I know," he replied around a mouthful of breast, making her squeal as he gave her one quick, hard thrust, "but you promised to obey this time, and you're gonna obey." He bit her gently as he eased deliberately out of her.

Deirdre felt like she would die from pleasure as Allan took his time, pushing into her all the way, then pulling almost all the way out of her; repeating the process with agonizing slowness as he suckled first on one nipple, then the other. The stream was no longer cooling her body. She wanted to feel him lose control, slamming into her body until she could feel his seed spreading into her, warming her core. She writhed and moaned against him, trying to reach down between them to squeeze his balls, but that only kept him from entering her all the way, and that would never do. She moved her hand to tug impatiently at his hair instead, bringing his head up so she could kiss his mouth. She began to increase the pace herself, one hand on his broad shoulder, as she levered her body up and down over his thick length. She was rewarded by Allan's hands on her hips matching her rhythm, and then increasing the speed as he thrust wildly into her, finally pushing even deeper as he cried out his pleasure, filling her womb.

When he could speak again, Allan chided her, growling into the hollow of her neck, "Ya know, you're a disobedient little thing."

Deirdre smiled in satisfaction as she tightened her inner walls, trying to keep him inside her as long as possible. "I know," she answered him, nipping his earlobe, "but I've been naughty for years. Completely intractable if you ask my da. Perhaps you'll have better luck with our little one, since you'll be starting out fresh."

Allan's eyes widened and his face paled as he thought about what he had done; hoping he hadn't hurt the baby. He pulled quickly from her body and stood her at arm's length, looking her up and down before swallowing in fright.

"Are ya all right, Luv? Jazus, what've I done?"

"If you don't know by now, Mo Croí, we're in trouble," Deirdre teased, trying to lighten his suddenly serious mood.

"You know what I mean," his tone was sharp. "Did I 'urt you? Did I…did I 'urt the babe?"

He looked so forlorn, Deirdre almost felt bad for him…almost. She burst out laughing, momentarily falling back into the water.

"You thought," she giggled, wiping the tears from her eyes, "that you would hurt the baby? Darlin', you're not _that_ big!"

"Oy! That's a wonderful thing to say to your 'usband! And I wouldn't laugh too 'ard—you're the one what thought I was supposed to mount you from behind like a stallion!"

Deirdre brought herself under control, holding up her hands in front of her, palms facing Allan.

"Truce, then. I guess we both have a lot to learn, eh?"

"I guess so," Allan conceded grumpily. "So, us shaggin' like that won't hurt the baby?"

"No. I made sure to ask Madeline." Deirdre blushed at the admission.

Allan grinned with pleasure at her words. "You did?"

Deirdre nodded her head, peering up at him from under her lashes. "That wasn't too bold, was it?"

"For you?" Allan laughed as he moved in to pull her back into his arms. "Rubbish."

**A/N: For those of you who thought the last sex scene was a bit too graphic, I hope this is better; there were times of course, when I had to call it what it was. Please read & review--I love your input (although it takes me a day or so to appreciate the not-so-glowing stuff!). :)**


	6. Chapter 6: Confession

Chapter Six: Confession

Djaq followed Will silently through the woods; he seemed to have no particular destination in mind, yet strode on with purpose. She was so concentrated on keeping up with his much longer strides that she ran into him when he finally came to a stop. Looking around, she noted they were near the rock formation where he had once carved a likeness of his father that caught the sunlight and projected the image onto the rocks. She wondered why he would bring her anywhere in the first place, but especially to this place, that must be so close to his heart.

Will didn't know where he was going, or really what he was doing. Having once made up his mind to tell Djaq his feelings for her, he had been resolute; now, he felt a little bit foolish. He came to the rock formation, the place he had come to work on a tribute to his father, Dan, after Dan's murder by a sheriff's man., and decided this would be the place. He stopped, and stumbled as Djaq ran into him. He turned to catch her, almost obsequious in his apology.

"I'm sorry, Djaq, I didn't mean to stop so suddenly. Are you all right?"

Djaq held up a hand, her cheeks coloring. "I am fine, Will. What did you wish to talk about?"

"I…" As Will looked into her eyes, he was suddenly overcome by the shyness that seemed to always plague him around pretty women, and he cursed inwardly as he tried to force his unruly tongue to say the words he wanted to say to her.

Djaq smiled at him, her heart in her eyes, watching as he seemed to struggle to speak.

"Djaq…I…" His brown eyes pleaded with her to understand, to save him from having to say the words.

Djaq decided that she would have to speak if she wanted to be anything more than friends with the carpenter.

"Will, I care for you too, more than I probably should."

Will's handsome young face broke into a smile, her admission giving him the courage he needed.

"Djaq, I don't just care for you. I think I love you."

Djaq stood stunned at his words, unable to move as he cradled her chin in his big, calloused hand, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her mouth.

* * *

Allan and Deirdre arrived back at the camp, and sat by the fire to finish drying. Deirdre's long, blonde hair appeared brown as it dripped onto her clothes and Allan's darker brown hair dripped into his eyes, causing him to blink more often.

"What happened to you two? Did you fall in?" Much asked innocently, grinning widely at their imagined misfortune.

"I wouldn't exactly say we…fell," Allan replied slyly, with a glint in his eyes that made Deirdre blush.

"Would you please hush!" Deirdre admonished, slapping Allan's arm lightly.

Much's smile wavered, turning to a look of disgust as he caught their meaning.

"That's revolting! I clean the dishes in that stream! We drink water from that stream!"

Allan's smile widened even more and he winked at Deirdre.

"D'ya think we're the first, Much? Why just last week I was down there and there was this stag, see, with his doe…"

Much quickly covered his ears and began to make noise. "Not listening, _not_ listening!" he nearly cried as he moved quickly away from the couple.

Robin and Little John had been hovering in the background, and were laughing heartily by the time Much left.

* * *

Guy rode his usual black destrier. He had enjoyed the stallion Deirdre had given him for Christmas until she had betrayed him by marrying Allan A' Dale. The day after the wedding, he had sold the black Arabian to the first buyer.

Marian rode beside him silently on Alemah, Deirdre's mare that she had been unable to take with her on her flight with Allan and the gang from the castle. Alemah snorted and nipped at the stallion as he leaned his head over to sniff at her neck.

Guy laughed sardonically. "It seems Deirdre's mare is as temperamental as her former mistress." He pulled on the reins, bringing the big, black horse away from the little Arab mare, who was dancing around, trying to break Marian's tight hold on her.

"You should have brought your own mare, she's much…friendlier." Guy's insinuation, that the horses reacted the same way as their mistresses, was not lost on Marian.

"I like Alemah. She's forthright, and knows her own mind. I think that's important, don't you?"

Guy sniffed arrogantly. "I think it's better to keep in mind who your master is, and to not bite the hand that feeds you."

Marian raised a dark eyebrow, reassuringly patting Alemah's neck. "Yes, well, to some, it doesn't matter if the cage is gilded and the feed steady; what matters is that it's a cage."

"Are you defending Deirdre's actions?" Guy asked incredulously.

"No. What she did was wrong. There is a part of me that finds it romantic though, that she would defy everything—her suitor, her father, her prince—to be with the man she loves." Marian was afraid she may have gone too far as she watched Guy's frown deepen. "Of course, most of the girls my age find it terribly romantic."

"Do you think it would be romantic to live in the forest, with no roof over your head, no maids to tend you, no cook to give you proper meals? To live as a hunted outlaw, knowing that if you are caught, you will be hung? I imagine the romance wore off for _Lady_ Deirdre after the first good rain." Guy spoke Deirdre's former title with disdain, but then smiled evilly thinking of her discomfiture. "She has made her bed, now she must lie in it, even if that bed is a pile of leaves."

Marian nearly smiled, thinking of the camp, and of its relative comfort over what Guy was describing. If Guy knew that the outlaws actually did have a roof over their head and proper beds, thanks to the skills of Will Scarlett…Marian decided to let Guy have his fantasy of Deirdre being wretched, but knowing the outlaw camp and knowing Deirdre as she did, Marian doubted very much that the little Irish woman was uncomfortable.

* * *

The moon rose full that night, bathing everything with its soft glow, filtering through the leaves and dappling them. Deirdre sat outside of the camp, contentedly wrapped in Allan's strong arms. With the setting of the sun, the breeze had picked up and the evening had become chilly; Allan's body was warm and inviting as she snuggled closer. Two forms crossed along the moonlit path, one petite, the other tall and lanky. For a moment, she and Allan tensed until the light revealed the faces of Will and Djaq, coming toward the camp hand-in-hand. Allan and Deirdre sat in a little patch of shadow, and so the other couple had not seen them. The A' Dales watched as Will and Djaq halted a dozen or so yards away, looking furtively toward the camp's entrance before turning and kissing each other deeply.

Allan grinned—he had long suspected that Djaq liked Will as much as the young carpenter liked her. Deirdre turned to smile at her husband; noting the look on his face, a look that said he was about to start something, she quickly planted a long, deep kiss on his mouth as well. By the time he could breathe again, Will and Djaq had moved by and entered the camp; Allan hadn't even heard them pass.

Deirdre broke the kiss and went to go snuggle with her back to him again, but Allan was once more fully aroused. He picked Deirdre up and put her in his lap where she could feel his excitement.

"Mmmm. Again?" she murmured against his mouth, as his kisses became more demanding.

Instead of answering, he slid a hand under her top and began teasing her nipple, then began rucking her shirt up with his arm, bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth.

Deirdre moaned softly, holding his head to her chest as he licked and sucked, drawing first one nipple into his mouth and then the other. His mouth was warm and wet and his tongue nearly tickled as he suckled hard on her. Deirdre didn't understand how it could be that his mouth on her breasts made her stomach contract—and further down as well—but she wanted him inside of her, now. She reached down between them and took hold of him through his pants, then slipped her hand under the material.

Allan nearly lost control as she stroked the soft, sensitive head of his erection with her thumb. Growling low, he tugged at her shirt until it was off, then moved her off of him, laying her on her back to remove her pants and boots; his own clothes followed quickly, and then he was lying on top of her, her legs wrapped around him, urging him on. He pressed against her soft entrance, gratified to feel that she was already wet for him. Slowly he pushed his full length into her as she whimpered and moaned quietly beneath him, squeezing him and wriggling to try to make him go faster.

Allan grinned to himself; Deirdre was definitely a wild one, always impatient, but tonight he would take his time with her, go gently so as not to hurt the babe. Buried in her soft folds, he leaned down to kiss her.

"Allan, what are you doing?" Deirdre whined as he paused for breath.

"I woulda thought you knew by now," he teased her, softly kissing her nose, then her eyelids, moving down to her chin and over to tug on a delicate earlobe.

Between Allan fully inside of her, and his mouth and teeth working some kind of magic on her earlobe, Deirdre was losing her mind. She wanted him to be buried inside of her, yes, but she also wanted him slamming into her; for him to just lay there kissing her was driving her crazy. She squirmed, trying to move her hips, but Allan's weight kept her pinned to the ground. She heard him chuckle in her ear as his hands took hold of her pelvis, keeping her pinned while he slowly withdrew.

"Allan, please!" she begged quietly.

"Now, Luv. This time I'm gonna go slow, so don't you try any of your tricks." True to his word, he eased back into her until she could feel his pubic hairs tickling her bottom. She was so tight and oh so damp; it was all he could do to keep his control, to not give in when she begged him to go faster, especially when she began squeezing him with her inner walls. He was determined though, that this time would be slow and easy, so he gritted his teeth, fighting for self-control. His mouth found her face and her neck, teeth nibbling on her tender flesh, bending his head at one point to suckle at her breasts. Completely without hurry, he rocked in and out of her, building the pleasure with each inward thrust.

Deirdre whimpered, but tried not to make too much noise, as they were still too close to the camp for her comfort. With a sigh, she promised to behave herself, and matched his rhythm as he released her hips to place his hands on either side of her head.

Deirdre groaned in pleasure as Allan moved on top of her, pushing himself all the way in, pulling nearly all the way out, repeating the process over and over, a most pleasurable torture. She loved the feel of his body on top of hers—dominating, protecting, loving. The weight of him holding her down was incredibly sensual, particularly since he went to great pains to _not_ crush her. She watched the moon go behind the clouds as Allan took his time with her, cherishing her. It seemed like forever to her fevered body, but soon she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as he thrust into her, a bit more quickly, with a bit more force. This time when he bent to kiss her, his lips were not gentle, no longer questing; this time his kiss was demanding, his lips bruising hers.

Allan grabbed the hands that had been on his buttocks, urging him on; he held them to the ground by her head, their fingers interlaced. Despite his earlier intention to be gentle, Allan soon found himself driving into her as hard, fast and deep as he could. Deirdre's hips pushed back at him and she squeezed him firmly on every thrust; she was so very tight, he could have wept from the pleasure of it. Her breathing was becoming more rapid, as was his. He felt the edge of reason fast approaching and then his body was going over that edge as he redoubled his efforts, burying himself in her as he flooded her womb, crying out in triumph.

Deirdre sobbed his name, losing her control, as Allan thrust and came deep inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows as he buried his face in her neck, trying to calm his breathing. Deirdre too, was trying to catch her breath, but Allan made it difficult as he playfully nipped from her ear, along her neck and shoulder, then grinned down at her in satisfaction.

"You are the best woman a man could ever want, you know." As much as he loved her, Allan still had trouble bringing himself to say those three little words; this was his way of telling her exactly how he felt.

"I know. I love you too, Allan A' Dale."

"No regrets? You could be livin' the life right now if you'da picked Giz instead."

Deirdre sighed. Allan was still so uncertain, still not sure why she had chosen him instead of Guy of Gisbourne.

"Allan, if I had it to do all over again, the only thing I would change is you suffering in that dungeon for me. I will never want Guy, and I will never forgive him for having you imprisoned and tortured."

"Then why'd you speak up for 'im with the prince?"

"Because I didn't feel right letting Prince John handle his punishment. I want to take care of him myself." Deirdre's voice had gone low and threatening.

Allan knew she was capable of committing murder—he had seen her do it to save him from the torturer in Nottingham's dungeon, but he worried for her nonetheless. "You're not to go near that man, understood Deirdre? Especially not now, not when you've our child to think of. Promise me you'll stay away from 'im," Allan demanded as he looked seriously into her eyes.

Deirdre sighed in frustration at Allan's protectiveness, pushing against his chest to get him off of her.

"Promise," Allan didn't budge and his own voice warned of retribution if she didn't agree.

"All right. I promise. I will not go near Sir Guy until the babe is born."

It was Allan's turn to sigh—that was the most he could hope to get from his stubborn wife for now. He rolled over, bringing her over into the shelter of his arms and kissing the top of her head.

* * *

Back in the camp, Much, Robin and Little John watched suspiciously as Will and Djaq entered together, smiling at each other softly before retiring to their separate bedrolls. Later, as they all settled into their beds, two cries broke the stillness of the night; Much, Will, and Djaq all flushed in embarrassment, while Robin and Little John grinned at Allan's good fortune.

**A/N: So, what are we thinking? Good, bad, indifferent? Please review--your reviews really helped me in "The Thief" (plus, I really like the ego-boost!).**


	7. Chapter 7: Restless

Chapter Seven: Restless

A week passed, then another, and finally Deirdre's morning sickness began to ease up. Life in the camp with nothing going on though, was starting to drive her insane. Little John refused to spar with her because of the pregnancy, and even picking fights with Much had lost its fun. All she was allowed to do was cook or whittle or practice her archery; the archery was more of a frustration than anything else—in the forest, she had a hard time hitting the trees, no matter how many times Allan or Robin helped her adjust her aim.

Allan, at least, seemed to be having fun; since the gang had forgiven him, she saw that his brilliant smile finally reached his eyes. He spent more and more time with Robin and was often sparring with Little John, much to Deirdre's annoyance.

One morning, bored nearly to tears, she grabbed Djaq, deciding it was time enough to visit Madeline. At least if she mentioned the wise woman's name, the gang would let her go with only Djaq as escort. She knew they were only trying to protect her, but she felt more imprisoned than cherished; even in her bed with Allan, his arm over her and the fact that he slept on the outside, was beginning to make her feel trapped.

For a while, Deirdre and Djaq walked along in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Deirdre finally spoke, unable to take the quiet any longer.

"So what's going on with you and Will?"

Djaq nearly tripped, righting herself as she countered with her own question.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's going on with you and Will? You two keep making puppy-dog eyes at each other. Are you two involved?"

"We care for each other." Djaq sincerely hoped that Deirdre would just drop it, but Deirdre never really seemed to do what anyone sensible hoped she would do.

Deirdre snorted. "'We care for each other'," she mocked. "That boy worships you! He's putty in your hands! Have you even kissed him yet?"

The way Deirdre asked had Djaq's back up and she responded without thought. "Yes," she answered a bit more defensively then she had meant to.

"Has he…touched you?" Deirdre asked quietly. Boredom was making her be even more aggressive then she had been formerly.

Djaq flushed, stumbling over her answer. "I…I…"

"I'm sorry, Djaq. It's none of my business. I'm just so bored! I'm used to shopping and practicing with my sword, and riding, and…"

"Stealing?" Djaq put in with a smile.

Deirdre grinned ruefully back. "Yes, and stealing. Ever since I started getting sick and then we found out it was because I was pregnant—well, Allan doesn't treat me the same, none of them do. I just want things to be how they were."

"You know that cannot happen. Allan loves you. He would die if something were to happen to you. And as for the baby…the way he acts, you would think he was the first man to father a child. He is happy, happier then I've ever seen him."

Deirdre suddenly felt guilty and they spent the rest of the trip in silence.

* * *

Marian was out shopping, trying to avoid Sir Guy—again. It seemed like Guy had recently decided to renew his interest in her and it was making her edgy. She wanted to help Robin and the gang, so having Guy friendly with her was important, but it was becoming more and more difficult to escape his kisses and his grabbing hands. She still felt dirty from earlier in the day, when he had caught her skulking around the hallways; he had grabbed her and pulled her to him, but when he leaned down to kiss her, she had neatly turned her head, claiming that she was come to find out if he needed anything at the market while she was there. She had overheard he and the sheriff talking about the best route to get the summer's taxes out of Nottingham and to the prince; they had decided to move some of it now and more of it later, removing it a bit at a time to try to escape detection by the outlaws. They would begin transporting it next week, so she had to get word to Robin somehow, if only she could shake her ever-present shadow.

* * *

Madeline was once again tending to her garden when the two young women stepped from the forest; while she was unsurprised to see them, she was a bit taken off guard that they had come so soon. She smiled as the blonde woman made the sign of respect and the Saracen copied her friend. Deirdre A' Dale was a woman of contradictions, that was certain; while she knew virtually nothing of the goings-on between men and women, she seemed intimately acquainted with those same details when it came to horses. She was completely ignorant of healing herbs, but could put those same herbs to good use in cooking or poisoning; the daughter of a lord, she would quickly dive in to help with the chores, and oddest of all, she was an extremely quick learner when she was given a task to do, but could not follow a set of directions given to her all at once to save her life.

Her friend Djaq seemed to be similar in many ways; her knowledge of healing was extensive, but she knew nothing of the workings of a woman's body outside of her moon flow and knew even less of relationships between men and women than Deirdre did. Djaq however, could follow multiple directions and was not easily distracted. At one point in the day, as she was instructing the girls in the many uses of herbs and the making of medicines, Madeline left a pot on the fire with Deirdre tending it while she and Djaq went to the forest. Deirdre wandered off in boredom after a time, and the potion burned. After scolding her completely unrepentant student, Madeline left the new concoction under Djaq's supervision, taking Deirdre with her this time to hunt down the herbs.

Even in the forest, Deirdre's boredom was not relieved—whenever some animal would rustle the leaves, the pregnant girl was on alert, but was excited, not scared. Madeline shook her head—the girl was like a filly bred too young, still wanting to run and play, rather than standing quietly with the other mares. It did not bode well if the child inside her body did not slow its mother down and soon.

* * *

The next day, Deirdre was whittling yet another arrow. The irony was not lost on her, that she was fashioning a weapon that she could not get to work properly. She was so bored she nearly nodded off, but then the sound of a voice she had not heard in quite some time woke her from her reverie.

"Robin, I cannot stay for long. Guy is at Locksley, but I will still be missed if I am gone for any length of time," Marian was saying. Her voice sounded urgent.

"Gather 'round, everyone. Marian has news," Robin commanded. The outlaws all stopped what they were doing to come greet the former sheriff's daughter, Robin's sweetheart. Deirdre set her knife on the ground and stood to embrace the woman who had become a friend when they were at Nottingham Castle together.

"Deirdre! How are you? I miss you horribly," Marian greeted, hugging the smaller woman.

"I'm well. Alive, at least, and not in residence at Locksley," Deirdre responded.

Marian frowned at her friend's less-than-enthusiastic response, but dismissed it for the moment to impart her news.

"As you know, the sheriff has been collecting more and more taxes this past spring to pay for the Black Knights and their support of Prince John's claim to the throne."

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not bein' funny, Marian, but you didn't ride all the way out 'ere to tell us that, did you?"

Marian glowered at him, but chose not to respond to his comment. "He needs to be sure that money gets where he wants it to, but the lot of you have made that task difficult for him."

Robin grinned proudly, thinking of how he and his gang vexed the sheriff.

"He is determined that the money will not be stolen this time. He means to send it out here and there, in small amounts, with guards disguised as peasants."

Robin frowned, contemplating; Deirdre spoke up, voicing his thoughts.

"So how are we to know who is a peasant and who is a guard? What does he consider a 'small amount'?" Deirdre's mind was working quickly and for the first time in a month, she was excited.

Allan turned to her, frowning. "There is no 'we', Luv. You don't need to figure out who's who since you ain't goin'."

"Of course I'm going. I'm one of your best swordsmen, and if they're guards, you'll need all the help you can get," Deirdre reasoned.

"You. Are. Not. Goin'," Allan enunciated carefully, looking pointedly at her belly after meeting her eyes.

"I don't know who you think you are, Allan A' Dale, to order me around, but I _am_ going!"

Allan got up in her face, his temper in full swing at the thought of anything happening to Deirdre or the baby.

"I'm your 'usband, that's who I am! And the father of that child you're carryin'! I'll not be disobeyed!"

Deirdre's nostrils flared, her breathing was coming rapidly. She was just about to respond when Marian's shocked voice broke in.

"You're pregnant! Deirdre, Allan, congratulations!" Marian threw her arms around both of them, cutting off Deirdre's response, but not the glares that the couple were throwing at each other. Marian pulled Deirdre off to walk in the forest as Allan settled angrily back by the fire.

* * *

Marian drew Deirdre off a ways. After a time, they came to a clearing where Deirdre began to pace as Marian looked on worriedly.

"Is it true? Are you carrying Allan's child?" she finally ventured a bit hesitantly.

"Yes. It's true," Deirdre spat out.

"Well, aren't you happy?"

"Marian, I haven't been happy in some time now. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Allan's sweet, but…what?"

Deirdre stopped at Marian's snort of derision.

"It didn't look like you thought he was so sweet back there."

"Yes, well, he _does _have an issue with bossiness."

Marian grinned, "Don't they all?" and Deirdre grinned back.

"I'm sorry, Marian. It's just that I'm not used to being kept out of the action--I'm used to planning it and executing it by myself. Ever since I came here, Allan's been bossing me around—"Eat this, drink this, put that sword down"—it's enough to drive a woman insane! I know he's only looking out for me and the baby, but…" Deirdre stopped, at a sudden loss for words.

"But you're not used to being told what to do. You're used to making your own decisions."

"Yes." Deirdre sounded defeated.

"Believe it or not, I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes. I came to live in the forest for a bit. No one knew I was here. In fact, it was thanks to Allan that they all thought I had gone to a nunnery. Robin tried to curb me and it ate at me horribly."

"How did you get over it?"

"I threw knives."

"You what?"

"It's amazingly stress-relieving if you picture your sweet-heart's face on the tree you're aiming at."

Deirdre laughed at that, although his _face_ wasn't exactly what she'd be picturing as a target.

Changing the subject, Deirdre asked, "So how are you doing these days?"

"Not bad." Marian kept her answer succinct.

"What of Guy and the sheriff? What are they up to? Besides this whole stupid idea with the taxes, I mean. Guy is not…bothering you again, is he?" Deirdre asked guiltily.

Marian did not want her friend to worry, particularly now with the news of the baby.

"No more so than usual."

"You're lying."

"I am not."

Deirdre raised a blonde eyebrow at Marian, and then crossed her arms over her chest, planting her feet to wait for the truth.

Marian stared just as stubbornly back at Deirdre, a mountain meeting an immovable object--that is, until Deirdre clutched her stomach and cried out in pain, bending double. Marian ran to her side, bending to try to see Deirdre's face through the mass of hair that now trailed the ground.

"Deirdre! Are you all right?" She moved aside a lock of hair to peer in at Deirdre's pain-filled face.

Deirdre nodded mutely, then cracked open one eye to peer at her friend. "It's just that…it's just…you see, the baby…the baby doesn't like it when people lie to her mother." Deirdre winked at Marian mischievously, her mouth breaking into a huge grin as Marian shoved at her playfully.

"You are a…a…"

"A what, Marian? Go on, say it!"

"That was not nice!" Marian could not seem to bring herself to say anything truly bad, manners winning out over her anger at Deirdre.

Deirdre was completely unrepentant. "Neither is lying to a friend. So, what's Giz been up to?"

"Well, at first, he didn't bother me at all—spent all his time in the kitchens. Now, all of a sudden, he seems to have renewed his interest in me."

"How so?" Deirdre spoke quietly, the menace still apparent in her tone.

"Nothing really overt, other than wanting to spend time with me. Lots of time," Marian sighed in annoyance.

"Has he tried anything?"

"No, but I do worry about his sudden return of interest."

"Have you told Robin?"

"No! And neither can you. There is nothing Robin can do, and I won't have him worrying about the situation. I can handle Guy."

"You should come here. Stay with us. Robin would be over the moon if you did."

"I know, but I'm better off in Nottingham, finding out what the sheriff and Gisbourne are up to."

Deirdre gave Marian a small smile of acknowledgement.

"Shall we?" Marian inclined her head toward the path that would lead them back to the camp.

Deirdre sighed, thinking of the stubborn, over-protective husband who awaited her.

"I suppose."

* * *

Back at camp, Allan looked suspiciously over as Deirdre and Marian returned, laughing as though nothing was wrong. Marian soon left, escorted by Robin, and Allan went to talk to Deirdre; the rest of the gang melted into the forest to give them privacy.

"Deirdre?"

Deirdre had gone back to whittling her arrows for now, and looked up from the ground as Allan walked up to her. He was frowning, a look she never liked to see on his face; she much preferred his sunny grin.

"Yes, Allan?"

"So you're okay now? I mean, you ain't goin' on any of these raids, and there's an end to it."

"Allan, I'm used to running things myself. I'm not used to being told what to do."

"You do remember agreein' to obey me this time, dontcha?"

Deirdre looked at him sardonically and he added quickly, "You know I'm only lookin' out for you and the babe. Maybe if you wasn't pregnant…"

"If I wasn't pregnant, you'd still have an issue with me going and you know it."

Allan gave her a small, guilty smile of agreement, then sat on his haunches next to her. "It ain't for a week anyway, and hopefully we won't be gone for long. You'll 'ave supper waitin' when we get back?"

Deirdre smiled at him, leaning over to fasten her mouth to his for a moment. "Of course I will, Mo Chroí."

Putting the knife safely away, she pushed him onto his butt, and then climbed into his lap, feeling him harden beneath her as she deepened the kiss. "So tell me about this plan. Maybe I could at least help with the details of it."

"Later," Allan growled, picking her up and carrying her to their bower.


	8. Chapter 8: The Raid

Chapter Eight: The Raid

A week later, on the day the gang was set to intercept the first of the sheriff's disguised deliveries, Deirdre woke up and for the first time didn't feel even slightly sick. Although her morning sickness had eased in the past weeks, she had still had to stay abed for a bit when she woke up to let her stomach settle; this morning, she felt completely normal. She rolled over, looking guiltily at Allan's sleeping face. She loved the way his lashes fanned his cheeks when he slept; not wanting to disturb him, she climbed quietly out of their bed and out of the bower.

Much stretched and sniffed, wondering who on earth could be cooking or if he was having a dream; he could have sworn he smelled bacon and eggs. His eyes widened in surprise as he poked his head out from the covers and looked over to the cook-fire to see Deirdre scooping the eggs and meat onto plates.

Robin crashed into the wall of Little John's back as the taller man stopped, nonplussed, his eyes taking in the sight of Deirdre with the food; Will and Djaq also looked at Deirdre askance. Deirdre stood and took a plate to Allan, ignoring the gang's stares; she nudged him awake, watching as the realization came to his eyes and he sat up, one eyebrow cocked.

"So you decided to call off your attack on my best bits today?" He had considered moving to the inside of their bed, by the wall of rock to avoid being stepped on every morning by Deirdre's hasty exits from their bower, but he didn't like being blocked in.

"I don't know as I'd call them your _best _bits, but yes. I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking," Deirdre teased.

Allan sat up and reached for the plate, but rather than eating the food, he set it aside to pull Deirdre to him, kissing her deeply until her eyes closed and she sighed in contentment. Having been allowed to help with the planning seemed to have calmed Deirdre's need to be in the thick of the raid, much to Allan's relief. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her close again, his mouth feathering kisses all over her face before meeting her lips again. As they broke from the kiss, Deirdre laid her head on Allan's chest, listening to his heart slow back down as she worried her lower lip.

* * *

Allan was strapping on his sword a couple of hours later as Deirdre sat, whittling yet one more arrow for the gang's arsenal. Robin and the others were also preparing to raid the sheriff's tax revenues. Ever since Deirdre and Allan's fight of the week before, and her subsequent chat with Marian, Deirdre had seemed to be resigned to her fate—that she could no longer go into dangerous situations. Allan held out his hand to her; Deirdre put down the knife and the arrow and then took it, allowing him to pull her up and into his arms. He kissed her soundly, holding her to him, and then whispering in her ear.

"We'll be back by nightfall. Be good."

Deirdre swallowed, gazing into his eyes, so warm with his love of her; she knew those eyes were going to turn to ice if she did what she planned.

"Be safe, Allan. I love you."

Much rolled his eyes. "Are we going to have to endure this before _every _raid or is today special?"

Allan and Deirdre smiled at each other and broke apart, hands lingering for just a moment before he was gone with the rest of them.

Deirdre sat and took up her whittling again; she had decided before that no matter what Allan said, she would go on the raid with them, but now she felt guilty about lying to him. She would stay here like a good wife, doing what was expected of her. She managed to convince herself for nearly an hour that she could be obedient.

* * *

Along one of the many smaller roads that led off the North Road, the farmer was driving his cart warily through the shadowed woods. He realized that if he were found out, his life could very well be forfeit; even if Robin Hood let him go, the sheriff would probably see him hanged for his failure, or at the very least, flogged severely. He peered nervously into the trees around him, just wanting to be out into the sunlight again.

Allan stepped out from behind the large oak he had been hiding behind, holding up his hand in front of the pony that pulled the farmer's cart.

"Well now, what 'ave we 'ere?" he asked.

The farmer watched anxiously as more men materialized from the woods; he recognized Allan, and hoped fervently that Allan wouldn't remember him—no such luck.

"Since when do you farm, Daniel?"

Daniel stuttered. "I…I…please Allan, the sheriff'll 'ave my 'ide if I come back empty handed."

Allan smiled at the man understandingly. "Now, Daniel, I thought that was the whole idea. You bring something away from Nottingham and come back with nothin'. Ain't that right?"

Robin stepped forward. "Daniel, is it?"

The young man nodded and Robin continued. "You see, in most cases, we only take a tenth of what people have if they're honest with us. But the sheriff…well, he's another case entirely. We take everything. You can run away to another town if you like—we'll leave you the pony, but I'm afraid we have to take all of the money."

Suddenly, there was a commotion further down the road, a cry and the ring of metal on metal; Daniel was temporarily forgotten as the outlaws ran to see what was happening.

* * *

Deirdre had decided to follow the gang after much deliberation and pacing and arguing with herself. Something about the sheriff's plan was bothering her; even though he was trying to disguise the tax money, she didn't think that he would send it totally unprotected. Robin and the gang had disagreed, arguing that the lack of guards would complete the disguise. She stayed well back from where Robin and Allan and the others had accosted the young farmer and soon her instincts were rewarded as she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. Guards—dressed in forest green to blend in, but there nonetheless. She snuck up behind one man, dropping him silently with the butt of her knife to the back of his neck; another guard was not so easy though, and disarmed her, turning on her with his sword drawn. She quickly backpedaled, trying to get out her own sword, but tripped over a root and landed in the arms of another soldier, who grabbed her and held her tight. He raised a surprised eyebrow as he felt the softness of her breasts beneath his arm.

"What have we here, Stephen?" asked the approaching guard; he had put his sword away as he saw that their assailant was captured by his partner.

"Feels an awful lot like a woman to me, Henry. What say we find out for sure, eh?"

Henry reached his hand toward Deirdre's top; Deirdre kicked up, landing the man on his back before stomping the shin of Stephen and biting his hand. Stephen yowled in pain, holding his wounded hand and Deirdre took the opportunity to pull out her sword. In moments, she was fighting both guards.

* * *

Allan raced up the road toward the sound of the scuffle; as he topped the hill, he stopped for a moment, horror-struck at the scene that greeted him. Deirdre. Fighting off two guards. Swords flashing in the filtered sunlight. Almost immediately there was a cry of pain and Allan launched himself into the fray as he watched Deirdre collapse onto the forest floor. The rest of the gang followed quickly as more guards appeared from the trees, only to be beaten and chased off by Robin's men.

Allan was on his knees at Deirdre's side an instant later; he rolled her over to see her bloody hands covering her stomach. As though in a nightmare, he watched the blood pour from between her finger-tips. Dimly, he was aware of Robin yelling to Will to go and let Madeline know that they were on their way to her home; aware of Djaq gently laying Deirdre on her back and moving Deirdre's hands from the wound so that she could get a better look at it. As soon as Djaq moved the shirt, a raw, gaping wound was revealed that seemed to be pumping Deirdre's blood out too fast. Allan was frozen with shock as he watched Deirdre's pain-filled eyes flutter, then close; her breathing become slower and shallower. Djaq was yelling for moss for some reason. A moment later, Much handed her some and she packed it into Deirdre's wounds, then tore off one of her arm-bands; Deirdre made no sound as Little John gently lifted her so that Djaq could tie the strip of cloth around the wound, holding the moss tightly. Luckily, the morning had become unseasonably chilly and the gang had all brought their cloaks for the waiting. Little John's cloak became a stretcher, while Much covered Deirdre with his own; suddenly Robin was there in Allan's face, telling him to stand up, that they had to get Deirdre to Madeline's quickly. He came out of his stupor long enough to grab a corner of the cloak and lift with the others, Djaq going ahead to keep an eye out for any further danger.

The trip to Madeline's cottage seemed to take forever. Allan watched in growing fear as Deirdre's face became paler and paler and she alternated between shivering and sweating. Finally they arrived and the healer took stock of the situation Will had described to her. She shooed the men outside as soon as they set Deirdre on the sturdy table in the one room of the home, and she and Djaq fell immediately to the task of trying to save Deirdre's life.

Outside, Allan stood, still as rock, staring at the door, his face ashen. Robin came to him, his face also reflecting his shock as well as his concern for his friend.

"Allan," Robin spoke quietly, his hands on Allan's shoulders.

After a moment, Allan focused on Robin's face, his own face drawn, eyes wide in fear.

"She was supposed to be at the camp. She was supposed to be making supper and staying safe. Why wasn't she at the camp?" Suddenly Allan's fear turned to anger. Running a hand through his hair, he began to pace. "I told 'er to stay there, but no, not Deirdre! Stubborn, foolish…if she dies, I'll kill 'er. I'll never forgive 'er. And the babe…" Allan's tirade came to an abrupt stop, as did he. "Jazus, Robin, what if somethin's 'appened to the babe? She'll be 'eartbroke!"

Robin looked at his friend in sympathy, the only one in the group who could possibly understand a portion of what Allan was going through, having watched his love die in a cave not far away, before miraculously coming back to life.

"It'll be all right, Allan. She's with Madeline and Djaq now, and they're both gifted healers. If anyone can help her, they can."

The hours passed slowly. Eventually, Will and Little John went hunting, Much got a fire going and made supper. Robin brought a piece of venison to Allan, knowing he would refuse it. The moon had risen when Madeline stepped from the cottage and was immediately accosted by Allan.

"Is she all right, Mother? Will she live? What of the babe?" In his anxiety, Allan never even realized that he called Madeline by the same name of respect that Deirdre gave her.

Madeline sighed in exhaustion. It had taken her the day to stop the bleeding and close the wound, and they had had to sew some of Deirdre's insides as well before they could close the wound on her flesh.

"Allan, she lost so much blood. If she makes it through the night, she may survive. I won't know about the babe for some time yet; that all depends on if Deirdre lives. You should go to her, stay with her."

Allan shuffled dejectedly into the cabin; once he was inside, Robin turned to the healer.

"Madeline?"

"I told him true, Robin. Djaq is skilled and we've done all we can for now. The rest is up to Deirdre."

**A/N: Well, what d'ya think? I decided to veer away from all the sex and go right into violence. I'd love to have your feedback!**


	9. Chapter 9: Pain

Chapter Nine: Pain

Allan sat by Deirdre's side, feeling more lost than he had since Tom had died. He was sad and scared and angry. _Why did she 'ave to come? Why couldn't she just listen and do as she was told?_ Deirdre's face was still pale, her golden lashes looked almost dark against her high cheekbones. Allan stared at her features as though he had to memorize them, his fingers intertwined, his nose and mouth resting against his thumbs, elbows splayed on the table. Tears tracked unashamedly down his face. The fire crackled and popped, but all he could hear was the shallow breathing of his wife as she struggled to live. The coppery smell of blood was overwhelming in the little room. He stayed in the chair all night, praying harder than he had ever prayed in his life, to any god who would listen.

* * *

It was in the small hours of the morning, just before the cock crowed, when Deirdre's eyelids fluttered. She drew in a sharp breath at the pain in her stomach—the sound awakening Allan, who had fallen asleep with his head on his arms. He knocked over the chair in his haste to rise, to get closer to his wife as she fought back to consciousness.

"Deirdre?" He breathed out her name the way he had breathed the prayers until sleep had claimed him. There were dark circles under his eyes to match the ones under Deirdre's.

"Allan." Her voice was little more than a whisper of sound, but it was the best sound he had heard in the last day. He wept in relief, shoulders shaking, head bowed, and then looked up, reaching over to push her hair behind her ears as she stared at him through half-open eyes.

"What…?" Her voice was scratchy and Allan reached for the cup above her head. He helped her to sit up enough to drink a sip, but that effort was too much for her and she coughed, choking on the liquid. Allan helped her lay back down and then dried her lips and her chin.

"You're all right now, Luv. Everythin's goin' to be all right." Allan wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her more, but it didn't matter; Deirdre was already back asleep.

* * *

Hours later, Deirdre's eyelids fluttered again, and opened to once more view the concerned face of her husband. Her throat felt dry, her tongue too thick and her stomach was on fire, but she managed to croak out his name.

"Allan."

"I'm 'ere, Luv."

"You're unhurt," she whispered in wonder.

"Of course I am. Why would I be hurt?"

"I thought that…I mean, I…" Deirdre began coughing and Allan quickly and gently helped her sit up, giving her a bit of tea.

Madeline came bustling in then, carrying a load of new-picked herbs for drying.

"So our patient has decided to stay in the land of the living a bit longer, I see." Despite her sarcastic words, she was pleased that Deirdre was awake so soon—it was a good sign. Deirdre was strong, but she would still need all of that strength if she was to make it through.

Allan looked over Deirdre's head at Madeline, the hope shining from his eyes. "My Deirdre's a fighter," he responded to the healer proudly.

"Lay her down; let's have a look at that wound, eh?"

Allan did as he was instructed, laying Deirdre back down on the table.

Madeline pushed up the clean shift they had put Deirdre in the night before, exposing her belly and the raw wound there before covering her lower half with a blanket.

"You know most men die from such wounds." The older woman looked up at Deirdre's face and smiled. "It's a good thing you're not a man."

Deirdre glanced up at Allan, who was too grateful to see his wife alive to take issue with the healer's words. She looked back at Madeline. "And the baby? Is the baby…?" Deirdre could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

Madeline met Deirdre's gaze steadily. "I don't know yet, lass. You haven't passed it and that's good, but you have to regain your strength or you could still lose it."

Deirdre swallowed convulsively, but refused to let the tears that were threatening spill over. She blinked rapidly, licking her lips and watching Madeline's face for some sign of what the woman was thinking.

Madeline pursed her lips thoughtfully as she looked over her patient. The girl was conscious, but the wound would need constant attending if it was to heal properly; she could still catch a fever from infection and die.

"I'll be back," she stated, checking first to see that Deirdre was tucked into the blanket and shift, her wound and some of her belly the only things exposed.

She came back in a moment later, toting a jug with Little John trailing embarrassedly behind her.

"Hold her feet. Allan, hold her hands above her head, like." Mystified, Allan did as he was told, looking in curiosity toward Little John, who shrugged, placing his hands on Deirdre's ankles.

Madeline took the jug and uncorked it with her teeth. "This is goin' to hurt, lass, but it needs to be done to clean the wound." With that, she poured the contents onto Deirdre's belly, using a clean cloth to soak up the excess and pressing the cloth to the wound; the smell of the fermented beer filled the room.

Deirdre had already felt as though her belly was on fire; this was like the Greek fire she had heard of, burning hotter than ever. She cried out in pain and tried to move, to get away, but Allan and Little John were holding her down and Madeline was pressing the cloth to the hole in her belly. Finally, blessedly, she passed out.

* * *

Allan sat by Deirdre's side all day, bathing her forehead with cool water and trying to squeeze some willow tea past her lips to combat the fever. She faded in and out of consciousness, moving restlessly on the table; after one particularly bad episode where she almost fell off, they decided to move her to a pallet closer to the floor. She murmured, mostly incoherently, in a mixture of Irish and English. When she cried out Guy's name in the middle of a string of Irish, Allan was nearly consumed by jealousy, only managing to catch himself with the terrifying reality that it wouldn't matter if she had feelings for Guy if she died. _Besides,_ he consoled himself, _she said she 'ated Guy for torturing me. It's not like she's probly sayin' anythin' nice about 'im. _With his limited Irish, he could have sworn he heard the word "devil" anyway.

* * *

The next morning, the gang was sent back to the camp by Madeline, with the exception of Djaq and Allan.

"Maybe the people don't know where to find you, but they don't expect to find you at the witch's cottage," she counseled when they would have stayed.

Will and Much stayed at the back of the group, their sad looks saying it all; Will cast longing looks Djaq's way, but the couple was still wary of showing their affection in front of the others. Little John pulled Allan into a bear hug.

"It'll be all right." He spoke to the top of Allan's head before releasing the younger man.

Robin locked arms with Allan and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good luck, my friend."

"Thanks Robin. We'll come back when we can."

Robin nodded his assent and the gang took off into the woods.

* * *

Marian was walking through Nottingham town when Guy accosted her; there was no other word for the way he cut her in front of her as she walked. Marian pulled up short to avoid crashing into him, a frown of displeasure on her face.

"Marian," Guy greeted her succinctly.

"Sir Guy," Marian returned, shading her eyes with her right hand as she looked up at his face.

"What are you doing in town?"

Marian glanced at the basket on her left arm. "Shopping."

Guy flushed in embarrassment at his faux pas. "Of course. I meant, isn't it a bit hot for shopping today? Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the castle?"

"The castle is cooler, but I prefer the fresh air," Marian retorted.

"Do you mind some company?" Guy asked.

"Not at all." _I would prefer Robin, of course,_ she thought.

"Let me help you with that." Guy reached for her basket, removing it from her arm deftly, and handing it to one of his guards.

Marian sighed in annoyance as Guy took her elbow to guide her through the town.

* * *

For the next three days, Deirdre faded in and out of consciousness; finally, on the fourth day, she awoke and her eyes were clear. Allan was, as usual, by her side, and noticed the difference immediately, calling for Madeline and Djaq to come and see. The two women came quickly, checking the wound, which was healing nicely. Deirdre still had not passed the baby, another positive; every time she had regained consciousness in the past three days, someone had been at her side, forcing her to eat so that she could keep up her strength. When Deirdre had passed two days of nearly normal sleep patterns and eaten enough to regain some strength, Madeline felt satisfied that the sturdy little Irishwoman would live.

* * *

Allan and Djaq were sparring with their swords in the clearing to relieve the boredom. There was nearly nothing to do now that Deirdre was healing; Allan's relief was palpable, his cheeky grin and normal good nature returned. Madeline bade them to come and eat as the sun began its descent. Allan grabbed a plate and went to sit by Deirdre, trying to feed her, but she demanded to be allowed to hold her own plate and feed herself; Madeline smiled, pleased with her patient's progress. After the meal, Djaq and Madeline went to pull weeds from the little garden before the light was gone, while Allan sat by Deirdre's side. She turned to face her husband, noting with satisfaction that he no longer looked so tired and drawn.

"Allan, I'm sorry."

"What?" She had spoken so softly, he honestly had not heard her.

"I said, I'm sorry. For following you that day."

Allan's features immediately hardened. "Look, we don't need to talk about that just now."

"I do."

"Deirdre, I have a lot of things to say to you about that day, but I'll not speak of it until you're well."

Deirdre was silent a moment before forging ahead anyway, determined to at least defend herself before Allan got his chance to yell at her; he should at least know what had been going through her mind, although she decided that now was not the time to say "I told you so" about the guards.

"I had a bad feeling about the plan from the beginning. I didn't know what it was that was bothering me so much, so I followed you."

Allan sighed as Deirdre spoke despite his earlier statement. "Deirdre…"

"Allan. I know what I did was wrong, but I would do it again if I thought you were in danger. I followed you as I said, staying well back because I knew you'd be mad if you saw me. I figured that if there was no danger, if my feeling was nothing, then there was no harm in me following you. If there was danger though, I would be able to warn you. I was wrong."

Allan glanced over at Deirdre in surprise—this had to be a monumental moment in history for his wife to admit being wrong.

Deirdre continued on, not seeming to notice Allan's surprise.

"Now mind, I was right about the danger."

Allan smiled ruefully. _Of course she's right even in admitting being wrong._

Deirdre didn't see Allan's smile; she was staring at her feet, crossed at the ankles in front of her. "When I first saw the guards, hanging back in the forest, I thought to call out to all of you, but they were too close to where I was and I would've been dead before the words had a chance to land on your ears. So I snuck up on the first guard and took him out with no problem. The second guard turned at just the wrong moment and caught my arm, and bad luck, his partner was right there behind me. I was fighting for my life at that point with no time to shout out."

Allan looked at his wife appraisingly; her reasoning sounded possible, but she had still disobeyed him, and gotten herself and the babe nearly killed in the process. There was no way he was letting her off the hook so easily; she would have to learn _now_ that she could not just do whatever she liked anymore or else the next time, it could very well mean her death. He hated to do it, especially when she was lying there still weak, but he hardened his features, frowning at her.

"I told you, Deirdre, I'll not talk about it now. But when you're better, _you_ are in trouble." He held up a hand when she would have protested. "It doesn't matter that you meant well, you endangered the babe right along with yourself. You can't just think of yourself anymore—those days are over. Come on now, let's get you to bed."

With that, he picked her up and brought her to lie on her pallet. As he had since she had regained consciousness, Allan slept on the opposite side of the cottage.

* * *

**A/N: Well Folks, looks like our Deirdre is out of the woods--physically; she's in big trouble with Allan, though. Please let me know what you think--the good, the bad, and the ugly. Thanks as always to those who review, especially the detailed ones--it's good to know what works and what doesn't. :)**


	10. Chapter 10: Hormones

Chapter Ten: Hormones

Deirdre watched Allan walk across the room and settle on a pallet as far away as he could be and still be in the cottage; he turned his back to her as he lay down. He had done this every night since she had regained consciousness. Deirdre lay on her own pallet, completely miserable. After long hours, she finally fell into a restless sleep.

In the darkness of very early morning, she crawled across the floor to lie beside her husband, unable to take his distance any more. Allan rolled over in his sleep, throwing an arm over Deirdre's waist as he pulled her close. He nuzzled her neck and pushed his hips against her bottom; Deirdre smiled in relief as she felt his erection against her flanks. Without warning, he suddenly gave a cry and jumped up, running from the room as if the very devil was after him.

Deirdre lay for a moment, eyes wide in alarm, before pulling herself up. With the aid of Djaq and Madeline, who had been awakened by the noise, she went to go see what was wrong. The moonlight revealed Allan pacing frantically up and down the little meadow; as he saw the women exit the house, he stopped short, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Allan?" Deirdre called, the confusion evident in her voice. "What's the matter with you?"

Allan swallowed, looking quickly away from the women. "Nothin'. It's nothin'. Just a nightmare, I guess."

Allan much preferred that they think he was afraid of a dream than that they know the real reason he had run so quickly from the hut. Before Deirdre had regained consciousness, it had been very easy to be solicitous, to show her affection in an almost fraternal way. Now that she was up and around a bit more, and much more like her old self, his emotions—and his body—were far more volatile when he was near her. On the one hand, Allan wanted to beat some sense into her, but he would never raise his hand to a woman, least of all one he loved. On the other hand, he had come so close to losing her that it truly frightened him, and he wanted to bury himself in her body over and over, to feel her tighten around him and call his name as he filled her. He wanted the comfort of her naked body under his, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him as she held him and told him that she loved him. These were things Allan could never say aloud though, particularly not in front of anyone else, but not even to Deirdre, much as he loved her. He had almost lost control tonight when she had come to him in his sleep. He had thought at first that it was a dream—albeit a pleasant one—but when he had felt the soft flesh of her ass against his erection, he had come quickly awake and run from what he had almost done. Allan had promised himself that he would not touch her that way until she was completely healed. He decided right then that he would go back to camp where Deirdre would be safe from his lust.

* * *

It was just after breakfast when Allan made his announcement. Deirdre sat looking at him open-mouthed, her lower lip trembling slightly; she refused to let the tears she felt behind her eyes get loose.

"I see," was all she said. It was all she could seem to say. She would not make a scene. She would not carry on or try to get him to stay. She had not believed Allan's story of a nightmare for one minute. He had been so angry with her recently, and so distant, treating her with the same kindness he would a stranger, but no more. She knew the problem, but not its reason—her husband didn't want her anymore.

* * *

Djaq had decided to go back to the camp with Allan. She would have stayed if Madeline needed her, but the healer claimed that she could manage well enough now that Deirdre was getting stronger. She missed Will, and the others, but mostly Will.

Deirdre watched through the doorway as her husband and Djaq said their farewells to Madeline. They had both already said good-bye to her and then she had claimed to be tired and gone to rest on her pallet by the fire. She watched through hooded eyes though, wanting to see Allan for as long as she could. Djaq was speaking, saying they would come back in a few days to check on Deirdre, and then she heard Allan's voice, and his words broke her heart.

"She's the best woman around, ain't she?" he asked, smiling down at Djaq.

Deirdre closed her eyes as the tears finally began to fall.

* * *

The days passed and though Deirdre healed physically, Madeline was worried about how sad the younger woman seemed. Not even a visit by Allan and Djaq a week later cheered her up. After their second visit, Madeline decided to confront her charge; they were in the garden, pulling weeds just after sunrise. Never one to sugar-coat things, Madeline spoke.

"So what's going on in that empty cavern atop your neck?"

Deirdre had been focused on her task—the less she thought these days, the better. Allan had been kind on his visits, but still acted brotherly to her, while he laughed and joked easily with Djaq; they never stayed overnight. Deirdre found that it was better not to think.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, for a woman who not only survived a sword stroke the way you did, but is also carrying her husband's child—the first, at that—you are awfully mopey. I should think you'd be happy. You're young, you're—relatively speaking—healthy. What's got you so down in the face?"  
Deirdre hesitated, but looking over at the older woman's expression, knew she would never get away with lying to her.

"It's just that…Allan…well, Allan…"

Madeline sighed. "Spit it out, child, or we'll be here all day!"

"Allan doesn't love me anymore. He loves Djaq." Deirdre nearly choked saying the words aloud; they seemed so much worse than when they were rattling around in her head.

Madeline looked at her incredulously. "I didn't see any wounds to your head, but maybe I should check again! That man was half-dead with worry when they brought you here! Don't be daft!"

Deirdre swallowed miserably. "Maybe he still cared then, but not anymore."

"Lord, girl. I have never seen a man more devoted to his wife."  
"Then why didn't he stay?"

Madeline couldn't answer that—Allan had never said anything, and she still could not understand why he had left.

"Perhaps he was bored." Madeline almost bit her tongue, but was too late; the words had escaped.

"You see? I can't stay around for another visit, Madeline. I'll pack my things and be gone."

"And where'll you go, pregnant and still healing from a killing stroke?"

"Promise you won't tell Allan?"

Madeline sighed. "I promise."

"I thought I could go to see your cousin, up in Scarborough. She'll be able to help me with birthing the baby and maybe I can help her with whatever needs doing."

"You should stay. Talk to Allan."

"No. If I talk to him, I'll beg him to love me again, to not love Djaq, and I won't do that. If she is what he wants, I'll not ask him to be with me instead."

"And what makes you think that he loves Djaq?"  
"I heard him tell her."

"Oh." There was really nothing to say to that, except the few choice words she would have for the man. "Maybe you mis-heard him?"  
"No."

"So then I guess there's nothing I can say to keep you here?"  
"No. I'll leave right after we break our fast."

* * *

The last two weeks had been a nightmare for Marian as Guy made a nuisance of himself. Everywhere she was, he was; she barely got a moment's peace. She was walking through the halls of the castle one evening when she ran into him again.

"Marian." He smiled as he walked towards her.

"Guy." Marian did her best to not look like she wanted to run in the opposite direction. She was Robin's only person on the inside; she knew that the information she gave to him was important—more important than her comfort.

"Are you busy today?"

Marian's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying desperately to come up with something that she had to do, but Guy moved in quickly on her brief pause.

"Good. I should like it very much if you would accompany me to Locksley." Guy noticed her hesitation and decided to play on her weakness. "Thornton has been asking about you—he misses you."

Marian stared at Guy, nonplussed, then smiled. "Of course. I should like to see Thornton."

Guy did not miss the subtle insinuation that the butler was the only reason she was agreeing to go. He smiled crookedly, a smile which disappeared as soon as she passed him to head toward the stables.

* * *

Deirdre shouldered her small pack as she walked along the deer-paths. She wore the outfit she had been stabbed in, the hole neatly stitched, the blood washed out. The pants made walking easier and she had also decided to bind her breasts and put her hair up under a cap; it was safer to look like a young man when walking alone. Thankfully, her little baby bulge could easily be mistaken for slight over-indulgence at this point. She carried the dress that Madeline had given her, as well as some food, in the pack. Her eyes were troubled, but dry as she walked along, trying desperately not to think of the loss of Allan's love. If he wanted someone else, she loved him enough to let him go.

* * *

Allan was cranky. _I'm nearly as bloody moody as Much_, he thought. He was picking up small stones from near the hearth and heaving them at the entrance to the camp.

"Ow!" Much's exclamation rang out as he caught one of the rocks on the side of his face. Having called out and received no answer, he had tried to dodge inside in between rounds, but had misjudged. Allan still didn't notice, continuing his motion until Much grabbed his arm.

"What is wrong with you! Allan!" Much now grabbed both of Allan's shoulders, forcing the other man to look at him; the misery etched in his eyes had Much's anger cooling in sympathy.

Allan's eyebrows drew together. "What 'appened to your face?" he asked earnestly, noticing the blood trickling from a cut on Much's right cheek.

Much blew out a breath. "Never mind that. Here, help me build up the fire. The others are at the drop-off near Clun, so it's up to us to make supper."

Allan just smiled, the small smile that didn't reach his eyes and disappeared right away.

The two men got to work building the fire and preparing the food. After a time, Much, never one to stand silence, spoke up. "You know, it could be worse. At least she's okay."

Allan kept poking at the fire. "Yeah, I know."

"So what's got you so sad then?"

"You wouldn't understand, Much. And you don't really want to know."

"Well of course I want to know or I wouldn't have asked. And what makes you so high and mighty that you think I wouldn't understand? I know about love, you know," he added in a wounded tone.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya."

Much looked at Allan, urging him to continue.

"I miss 'er."

"That's it? That's what I wouldn't understand?" Much began laughing, only to be cut off by Allan's angry voice.

"I miss 'er and I want to lie with 'er and I'm afraid I'll hurt 'er 'cause she's still wounded and that don't matter 'cause all I can think about is how good it feels when I'm inside 'er.

Allan's tirade silenced Much, whose face turned beet red. When Allan spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"So that's why I 'ave to stay away from Madeline's as much as possible. I feel like an animal when I go there and I see 'er. I just want 'er well and home."

Much had always thought of Allan as too happy-go-lucky by far, and after his betrayal had thought of him as selfish; the longing in Allan's voice as he spoke words of such selflessness had Much reassessing that viewpoint.

"She'll be home soon, I'm sure," Much reassured.

Allan gave him a small smile of thanks.

**A/N: Please review & be kind--this is my first beta-less one in this series for quite some time! Thanks, Laelyn, for catching my "oopsie"!**


	11. Chapter 11: The Hunt

**A/N: Sorry it's a day late--I've been super busy the last week or so. That's a good thing, though (right?)! Again, sans betas, so be kind when you point out my oopsies, please (but go ahead and point them out--some feedback is better than none). Thanks!**

Chapter Eleven: The Hunt

Madeline couldn't take it anymore—the more she thought about it, the more she believed that Deirdre was mistaken about Allan's feelings. No man looked at his wife the way that one did and then strayed. She stuffed the weeds she had been pulling into her pocket, wiping the dirt off onto her thighs, and then pushed herself up until she was standing. Striding purposefully to the front of the house, she reached inside quickly for her walking stick, closing the door to keep the animals out. Luckily, Allan and Djaq had told her where to find the camp just in case there was a need. Madeline headed into the forest, the sudden cool darkness after the sunny, cheery little meadow matched her mood perfectly.

* * *

Deirdre shivered at the sudden drop in temperature as the sun, which had been dappling a few leaves, disappeared; the wind coming from the north cooled things even more and made the branches creak. Small animals scurried for cover; a storm was definitely coming.

* * *

Arriving back at camp, the gang was confronted by a confusing scene—Allan and Much holding a civil conversation while they made supper together. Robin, John, Will, and Djaq collapsed in exhaustion into seats by the fire. Much scooped the plates and Allan handed them to his friends as they looked at him sidelong, sharing looks of puzzlement among themselves. When everyone had their plates and all were eating, Allan spoke.

"Look, I know I been a bit out o' sorts lately…"

"No! You?" piped up Robin.

Allan shot him a sardonic look, but Robin was unapologetic.

"I'm just sayin', I'm gonna stop that now. Deirdre and the babe are both gonna be fine, so no problems, right?"

The others all looked at him, nodding as he met each of their glances in turn. As if on cue, the alarm went off and the outlaws scurried away to see what they had caught.

* * *

At the trap, Madeline was hanging upside down, holding her skirt between her legs to protect her modesty, and cursing up a storm. As Robin laughingly let her down, she lashed out at the group.

"Whose idea was that? You could've told an old woman about it, you know, you deformed offspring of a drunken dung beetle! I'll tan your worthless hides and wear them as coats to keep me warm in the winter! I'll turn you into legless rabbits and make a stew of you!"

Allan, Much and Little John hid, wide-eyed, behind the others, and then Allan noticed that Deirdre was not with the healer and he stepped to the front.

"Where's Deirdre?" he asked nervously.

"That's why I'm here, you bloody fool! She thinks…" Madeline stopped. She had promised Deirdre she wouldn't tell Allan. She crooked her finger at Robin, drawing him off to the side as Allan stood staring in impatience. She whispered Deirdre's confession in Robin's ear.

"What!" Robin looked to the woman to be sure she had spoken right.

"Go on, you tell 'im." She nodded toward Allan as she spoke to Robin. "She made me promise not to."

Robin sighed, and called Allan over to him. He leaned in close as he spoke.

"Deirdre has got a notion that you don't love her anymore, that you love Djaq instead. She's decided to go to Scarborough."

"What!" Allan's surprise mirrored Robin's, to be quickly replaced by anger and then worry.

"We 'ave to find 'er. Now."

"We're with you, my friend." Robin clapped a hand on Allan's shoulder. "Thank you for telling us this, Madeline. When did she leave?"

"This morning."

"Rest here for as long as you like. We'll be back soon. You're sure she headed for Scarborough?"

"As sure as anyone can be about something Deirdre says. She'll not be on the regular paths, though," Madeline counseled.

"Yeah, we know that one well enough. Deirdre never goes along the obvious path," Allan added darkly as they set off quickly to track her down.

* * *

Deirdre had decided that she should seek shelter from the coming storm; she found a cave and gathered some wood for a fire. Carefully, she made a circle of rocks to enclose the fire, adding the kindling and then stacking the wood tent-shape. She took out her tinder-box and got a spark going, blowing on it carefully as the wind picked up. Soon, the fire was going strong. Her tears started as the rain did.

* * *

Marian and Guy arrived at Locksley in time for the noon meal; they ate together in Locksley Manor, speaking of trifles. After, Marian went to check on the people of Locksley, shadowed by Guy. When they arrived back at the manor house, Guy grabbed Marian's arm and steered her inside; he had had enough of subtlety.

"Guy, what are you doing?" Marian protested fearfully.

He spun her around to face him and held her face as he leaned in to kiss her, forcing her lips open. She tried to break free of his grasp, and her struggles seemed to bring some sense to Guy's fevered mind. He broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers, trying to calm his breathing.

"I am sorry, Marian. I lost my head. But I am tired of playing games, aren't you? September twenty-second is the celebration of the harvest—we will celebrate our wedding then as well."

Marian smiled shakily. "Why Sir Guy, that has got to be the worst proposal I have ever heard. Surely you can ask me better than that."

"I am not proposing, Marian; I am not asking. You will be there." He turned on his heel and left her staring after his retreating form.

* * *

Allan and the gang made their way quickly back to Madeline's hut, where they picked up Deirdre's trail with little difficulty. Luckily, it was summer, and they had more daylight to search, but by nightfall they had still not found her. Allan of course, wanted to continue the search, but the gang convinced him that he would do Deirdre no good with a broken neck from tripping on tree roots. He was—surprisingly--the first to wake in the morning, nudging the others and insisting that they eat as they walked. By midday, they had split up, searching in pairs as the trail became obscured by a recent rain; Allan and Robin took the middle trail, Will and Djaq took the western trail, and Much and John took the eastern trail.

An hour later, with the heat of the day penetrating even into the forest, Much and John came across a cave and decided to stop in to cool down; they were shocked to find the recent remains of a fire there, and moved quickly, trying to find the new trail. Another hour and they could discern the form of a young man traveling along the path before them. They snuck up on the boy, not wanting to startle him, and yet they did when Little John tapped on his shoulder. The boy whirled, knife already in hand, and the two outlaws were shocked to be looking into the tear-stained face of Deirdre A' Dale.

* * *

Deirdre lowered the knife as she recognized Much and Little John. She had no desire to hurt them, but she was confused as to why they were here; it could not be a coincidence. She could tell by the looks on their faces that they saw through her disguise, so she decided to go on the offensive.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Well, we're looking for you. And now we've found you," Much stuttered.

Little John was making some sort of bird whistle, which had Deirdre on edge. It was bad enough to run across these two, but if the rest of the gang was about as well…

"You never found me," Deirdre declared and turned to continue on her journey.

Little John shook his great shaggy head and strode after her quickly to stop her.

"Yes, we have."

Little John was not a man used to being argued with, but Deirdre had done it before and from the look on her face, she was about to do it again. Sure enough, her next words contradicted Little John's.

"No, you haven't." She tried to pull her arm out of Little John's grasp, to no avail.

"What are you runnin' from, lass?"

Deirdre sniffed haughtily at him, somehow making him feel as though he was the smaller one of the two of them.

"I don't run _from_ anything."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Much piped up, without noting the quelling look in Deirdre's eyes. "You did run from the sheriff's men when you stole that stallion meant for Prince John. And you did run from Guy when he would've forced you to marry him. You ran away—with us—when we rescued Allan from the torture chamber. And then there was the time we all ran away from the sheriff and Prince John when the sheriff told him about your thieving…" Much swallowed as he suddenly noticed the dangerous glint in Deirdre's eyes. They had become friends of late, but he did not forget that she had held a knife to his throat at one point.

"I did not run away. Those were strategic retreats."

"Sounds like bullshit to me, Luv," Allan declared, materializing from the trees with Robin; Will and Djaq soon followed.

_Great,_ Deirdre thought, _so much for escaping without a scene. _

Allan strode toward her, his body vibrating with anger as he bore down on her. The gang didn't know if Deirdre was gutsy or stupid as she held her ground. All of Allan's pent-up worry had transformed into anger. Robin had never seen him this angry, not even when they had fought over the cauldron of pitch in Nottingham's courtyard, not even in his last tussle with his wife. Little John looked ready to place himself between Allan and Deirdre, but held back at a look from Robin.

"Is that what you call this? A 'strategic retreat'? I call it runnin' away. I call it thick-headed. I call it foolish." He was in her face now, leaning over her, eyes boring into hers. "I call it typical Deirdre. Act first, ask questions later."

Despite the wariness that showed in her eyes for the barest of moments, Deirdre refused to back down. Her words demonstrated all her sadness and anger.

"There were no questions to ask, you double-dealing tosser! I heard you, plain as day, declaring your love for another woman! And then every time I tried to touch you, you acted like I had the plague! Did you think I was going to stick around and play the fool? You surely don't know me if that's the case!" Deirdre was returning his glare full-on by now, her cheeks red, her eyes gone glacial blue as she stood up to her husband.

Allan was so angry he didn't even remember that others were around. "What are you on about now, woman? I swear some days you're 'alf a pint short! I didn't touch ya 'cause I wanted ya so bad, I was afraid of losin' control and 'urtin' ya, even more than you'd already done to yourself, you stubborn, pig-headed…"

"You told Madeline that Djaq was the best woman—that's how you tell me you love me, you never just say it." Deirdre's voice was tormented, full of anguish, and she angrily dashed away the tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks.

Will and Djaq exchanged a mystified look and shrugged at each other.

"You truly are insane!" Allan was frustrated, angry and not wanting to admit that Deirdre could be right.

Deirdre's Irish was up, in more ways than one. The gang didn't know what she was saying, but they were sure it wasn't good.

"Go hifreann leat, Allan A' Dale! Póg ma thoin!"

Allan had gotten into more than one row with his wife and learned enough Irish to respond. "I'm already in 'ell, you bloody crazy woman, so I'll kiss your arse later! Right now, I wanna know what in God's name you think I'd want with Djaq when I'm in love with you!"

Deirdre blinked, surprise replacing the fury on her face. "Really?"

Allan was still in high temper, despite Deirdre's sudden turn. "Really what?"

"You're really in love with me and you really don't want Djaq?"

Allan's blue eyes widened incredulously. "Well o' course! D'ya think I went through all that stuff with Giz and the sheriff and Prince John 'cause I just _like_ you? D'ya think I'd marry you 'cause I just like you? And no, I don't want Djaq—you saw her and Will, same's me awhile back. She and Will are a pair, just like you and me."

Robin, Much, and Little John exchanged knowing looks before grinning at the younger couple, who shifted uncomfortably next to each other.

"Then say it again," Deirdre demanded quietly.

"Say what again?"

The glare was back in Deirdre's eyes as she looked up at him.

The anger left Allan's face to be replaced by a grin as he registered the change in Deirdre's emotions. "I don't want Djaq," he teased.

Deirdre frowned up at him, un-amused.

Allan reached out to put his hands on her hips and bent his head down to tug on an earlobe as he whispered, "Because I'm in love with a crazy Irishwoman."

Deirdre stood stock-still for almost a full second before she pushed his head back to look into his eyes; he understood her unspoken demand immediately.

"I love you Deirdre. More than anythin'." With that simple statement, he placed his lips on hers, kissing her tenderly.

A moment of stubbornness, and then Deirdre was responding to his kiss, weaving her fingers through his auburn hair, molding her body to his. Will, Djaq, and Much looked away in embarrassment at their display, while Little John looked skyward with a smile on his face; Robin cleared his throat loudly and the pair broke apart, but stayed close, Deirdre's left hand engulfed in Allan's right one.

Deirdre began worrying her lower lip again, and as Allan looked over, his eyes went wide in annoyance—they had just got back together and already, she was up to something. He did not have long to wait to see what though. Deirdre looked at him sidelong, then took a deep breath, let it out, and looked back at Robin and the others.

"There is one other little thing." Deirdre hesitated.

"What is wrong, Deirdre?" Djaq asked, sympathetic as always.

"I heard talk. Before the—incident. While we were at camp."

The gang waited in varying levels of impatience and discomfort while Deirdre struggled to get the words out. She placed her hands on her tiny baby bulge.

"Look, I know this baby complicates things for all of you."

Much reddened and Robin frowned.

"I realize that we will endanger you more than usual, so I'll leave it to a vote, no hard feelings."

Deirdre looked at her husband, the love shining from her eyes.

"And Allan, if you wanted to stay with the gang for now, help them, I would wait for you in Scarborough. I realize that they were your family first and that what you do is important," she added as Allan would have protested.

"Any of you who would like me to leave, for whatever reason, just raise your hand now." Deirdre waited nervously for their reactions, hoping, but not expecting, to see no hands.


	12. Chapter 12: Making Up

Chapter Twelve: Making Up

"Are you out o' your flamin' mind?" Allan was the first to speak.

"No, Allan. The baby and I raise the risk that the rest of you will be caught. I'll be slower, clumsier, and then after--well, you know babies make noise. It's not fair that I saddle the gang with the extra risk without giving them a chance to give me the boot." She looked at their frowning faces and made another decision.

"It's also not fair to ask one of you to say you want me gone if everyone else wants me to stay. So," she bent and began gathering stones, then walked up to each person and handed them two, "if you want me to stay, place the white stone in my cap, and if you want me to go, place the brown stone. Come on, then!" she urged, as they made no move.

"Well this is just silly," Much grumbled as he stepped forward. Deirdre kept her head turned away until everyone was done, including Allan; she looked nervously around at the gang before opening her cap and nearly collapsed in tears at what she saw.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Much asked worriedly.

Mutely, Deirdre dumped the contents of the cap onto the ground before looking up at Robin and the others gratefully. "They're all white. Are you sure?"

Everyone nodded. Much rubbed the back of his neck. "I was sure I put in a brown one," he mused, then grinned at Deirdre as everyone pulled her up to hug her.

Robin looked to the sky. "We'd best be getting home," he declared.

* * *

It was nearly evening again when the group arrived back at the cave Deirdre had stayed in the previous night.

"We could stop here, Robin. It's warm and dry and there's no animals living inside." Deirdre turned to Allan, leaning into his shoulder as he bent to place a kiss on her head.

Robin watched the couple, contemplating, as Much began gathering nearby twigs for kindling.

"I think we'll push on, but you two stay, get your rest."

Much looked at him open-mouthed. "But Master, surely you're kidding?" The breeze ruffled his brown hair, bringing with it the scent of moist earth. "It'll rain tonight."

Robin looked from Much to the A' Dales, who were nuzzling each other, seeming to not have even heard a word. He stepped closer to Much, although he doubted it was necessary, and spoke quietly.

"Deirdre and Allan just had a fight; they are married, in love, and no longer angry with each other. Do you really want to try to sleep in the same cave while they're…making up?"

Much glowered at the couple, who were now kissing each other hungrily, completely oblivious to their audience. He dropped the bundle of sticks he had already collected, and marched off, his answer obvious; the others smiled and followed. Robin stopped and turned back, pain crossing his face for a moment, before he called out, "We'll meet you at camp tomorrow night." The only acknowledgement he got was Allan's raised hand shooing him off.

* * *

As the others left, Allan's kisses became more urgent, then he suddenly broke away, fighting for control. Deirdre would have fallen if his hands weren't on her arms.

"What's the matter, Allan?"

"I told you before. I feel like I can't control myself and you're still hurt, and I won't hurt you, not for nothin'."

"Oh, Allan, you won't hurt me, I promise. Why don't you go catch something for supper while I get the fire going? We'll eat and then you'll feel better." Deirdre had seen from the look in his eyes that he wanted nothing to do with trying until she was better; she figured the distraction of catching something to eat would help him.

By the time Allan returned with a small rabbit, Deirdre had the fire going, and it was beginning to get dark. Soon, the smell of the roasting meat mingled with the smell of the burning wood. Allan sat next to Deirdre in companionable silence and they laughed as their stomachs rumbled in unison. The meat was good and they continued to sit together once they were done, lulled by the fire and their full stomachs. Allan extended his cloak around Deirdre too, as the temperature dropped and the rain began to fall. Before long, they lay down and were both quickly asleep.

Allan was having a wonderful dream. In the dream, Deirdre was kissing him and nibbling his neck; her hands were softly stroking his body; Allan groaned in approval, reaching out to touch her. She felt way too real. He watched through hooded eyes, his mind half aware, his body fully so, as Deirdre moved away to remove her clothes. His wife then knelt beside him and helped him out of his clothes, kissing him wherever his flesh was revealed. Still barely conscious, he watched as she straddled him, moaning as she slowly took him into her body, his hands gripping her hips.

"Deirdre, what are you doin'? I'll hurt you; I'll hurt the babe." His voice was an anguished whisper. He wanted her, even more than usual, to ease the tension of their earlier fight, and of her near death, but on the other hand, a small part of him wanted to pull her off of him and keep her safe from all hurt, including any pain he might inflict.

"You won't hurt either of us, Allan. You just lie there and I'll make love to _you_ for a change. We'll go slow and easy, the way you like."

Allan couldn't take his eyes off of her. She _did _ride him slow and easy, true to her word for once. He watched as Deirdre levered herself up and down on him, her breasts bouncing lightly in the firelight, her long hair a blonde curtain around her face; no sight had ever turned him on so much. She bent down to kiss his lips tenderly and he reached up to cup her jaw, grinning as she nipped him and sat back, taking him all the way inside of her again, her head thrown back and eyes closed in pure ecstasy.

His fingers went back to her hips and tried to increase their pace, but she grabbed him and placed his hands on her breasts, keeping it slow. Gently, he squeezed a firm nipple, watching her bite her trembling lip. Allan cupped her breasts, his breath hitching as he caught sight of her still-healing wound. He blinked back the tears thinking of how close she had come to death, and all to try to save him. _Maybe it'd be better if she stayed in Scarborough,_ he thought, then selfishly changed his mind as she reached back to stroke his balls, squeezing him with her velvet channel at the same time. _I'll just tie 'er up next time before we go_, he amended. Allan stroked her belly in wonder at the new life beginning to make itself known; she was still small, but the bulge was definitely noticeable. Deirdre returned his smile, just as proud as he was, and then lifted one of his strong hands to kiss his palm. He sucked in a breath, unable to believe how erotic the feel of her lips on his hand was.

She brought Allan's hands back to her hips, allowing him to help her increase the pace as he thrust deeply into her. Before long, his body became taught and arched as he pushed as deeply as possible into her, holding her to him while he poured all of his love into her; she too, had lost control, her nails scratching his chest as she squeezed him tightly, crying out his name.

Deirdre collapsed on top of him, completely spent, as they both tried to calm their breathing. Allan stroked her hair, blowing on it to try to move it away from his face so that he could breathe; eventually, he was able to move a hand to push the blonde curtain behind her ear.

"See," she said when she could breathe again, "no harm done."

She felt the rumble of his laughter, and moved her head up to see the grinning, happy face that she loved so much.

"Deirdre, I don't know where my virgin wife learned to do that," he indicated her on top of him, "but it better've been from talkin' or I'll 'ave to thank some man right before I kill 'im."

Deirdre grinned back down at him. "Madeline and I talked a bit. Since Mum wasn't able to be there for my pre-wedding night talk, she felt it was her duty to properly…educate me."

"Really?" he raised one eyebrow appreciatively. "What else did she teach you?"

"You'll find out. If you're good. But not right now, I'm exhausted. How do men do it?"

"Do what?"

"When you make love to me, it seems like you have all the stamina in the world, and I felt like I was going to collapse before too much longer."

He waggled his eyebrows, pulling her back down to kiss her and reaching for a cloak to cover their shivering bodies, before he answered. "We're good and properly motivated, Luv."

* * *

Marian felt trapped. She could not marry Guy, not while she loved Robin. She was ashamed to admit though, that she was too afraid to just chuck it all as Deirdre had done, and run off to the forest to live with her love. It was late July, she had only two months to decide. She needed to see Robin, if for nothing else, to find out why they had robbed none of the sheriff's faux farmers that she had told him about. Guy had been impossible to shake for weeks now, but she had heard he was to take a trip to London soon—maybe then she could escape to the forest for a bit.

* * *

Deirdre and Allan were walking along the forest deer paths, making their way back to camp. The rain had cooled things the night before, but now the trees seemed to have captured the moisture, and with the heat of the day, made the air nearly unbreatheable. Allan carried Deirdre's traveling bag over his left shoulder, Deirdre walked by his right side. The forest was quiet, the animals too hot to come out and move about; the only sound was the squishing of the pine needles being pushed into the mud by their footsteps. As they neared the camp, they would walk on as many rocks or dry patches as possible to cover their trail. They stopped to rest and eat a bit by a small rill. Allan spoke as he looked at the ground, tearing a chunk of bread off to hand to Deirdre.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Deirdre, none of it. I couldn't bear to lose you."

Deirdre stopped in the middle of biting off a piece of the bread at Allan's admission. She knew exactly what he meant, and while a perverse part of her wanted to ask him anyway, the part that loved him knew she had already put him through too much.

"I won't," she replied simply.

"Promise me, Deirdre. I want your word." Allan's gaze swung up to meet the eyes of his wife, looking deeply for any sign of dishonesty.

Deirdre met his gaze steadily. "I promise. I will never endanger myself or the baby again. I will never leave you again. I love you, Allan and I'm so sorry for putting you through all that. I really was just trying to help, but next time, I'll trust in the gang."

"And when I tell you 'no' about somethin'? Will you trust me, too?"

"Allan…" Deirdre had never given control of her life over to anyone, not even her father when he had come along to claim her and to marry her mother. She had always been in control of her own life, responsible for her own destiny, and it terrified her to give that up.

"Deirdre, I love you. You either love me and trust me or you don't. You know I ain't gonna tell you to do somethin' that'll hurt you, and I ain't gonna tell you not to do somethin' unless I think you'll get hurt."

"I know, Allan. It's just that I do love you, and I don't want to make a promise to you that I can't keep. Can I think on it?"

"No. If you trust me, you'll agree and there's an end to it."

Allan's intense gaze felt like it was burning into Deirdre's soul, branding her as his, and it was with a little thrill of fear that she slowly nodded her head.  
"Say the words, Deirdre." Allan hated to be harsh, but knew that with Deirdre, it was pull the noose tight or she would wiggle out.

"I trust you, Allan."

He raised an eyebrow, urging her on.

"And I will do what you tell me to from now on."

Allan sighed in relief; if she kept her word, his life was going to get a whole lot easier again.

* * *

Deirdre had been oddly silent all the way back to camp; Allan assumed that she was tired because of the baby and the fact that she was still recovering from a sword wound. She was quiet all through supper and went to bed early, claiming the exhaustion that Allan was certain she felt. When he joined her a while later, after a few hours of talking and laughing with the gang around the fire, she was already asleep.

It was well past midnight when Deirdre crept from the bower. When Allan awoke, she told him that she had to go relieve herself. He murmured something that sounded like "be careful", and then rolled back over, closing his eyes again. Deirdre bent to quietly pick up her sword and went out into the camp, stopping at the place where Robin kept all the treasure. She stared at the smaller rocks which blocked the little hollow in the rock face, worrying her lower lip.


	13. Chapter 13: The Dead

**A/N: Thanks to whatsthefracas for beta-ing! Missed you, Girl!**

Chapter Thirteen: The Dead

Sighing resolutely, Deirdre bent forward to remove the main rock that guarded the alcove where Robin kept all the money that they robbed before its re-distribution to the poor. She stared for a bit at all the boxes and purses, the jewelry and bejeweled weapons. With tears tracking down her face, she bent to pick up the sword she had placed on the ground by her feet. She traced the pattern on the leather scabbard lovingly, remembering the leather-worker who had taught her to make her own pattern on the scabbard he had made special for the O'Niall's daughter. Removing the sword slightly, she watched the moonlight dance off the shining metal, thinking back to how bemused and then proud Martin had been as he taught her the use of the sword and she caught on so very quickly, the sword a mere extension of her arms. _If only Nottingham's guard had not gotten in that lucky stroke… _She sighed, breath hitching a bit, as she pushed the sword back into its scabbard, then took the cloak she wore and laid it on the ground, gently placing the sword on top of it and swaddling it as lovingly as if it were the babe inside of her. She placed the sword into the alcove and moved the rock back into its place, leaning heavily on it for a moment as her shoulders shook in grief for the part of her she had just interred. She had no regrets—if she had to do it all over again, she would choose Allan; she just wished it were not so difficult to be a woman, to have to make such choices. After a time, she angrily wiped the tears from her face. Allan would not see her cry over this. She would be a good wife and mother; she would be whatever he needed her to be, no matter the cost. Pushing back her shoulders and raising her chin, she made her way back to the bed to lay by her husband's side.

* * *

A few days later, the gang was once again preparing to go raiding. Deirdre had been oddly subdued and Allan was truly afraid that she was once again going to go back on her word. He kissed her gently, noting that even her kisses were lacking the passion they had held before she had been injured; he shrugged inwardly, imagining that coming so near to death may have affected her more deeply than any of them knew. Perhaps after the baby was born, she would be back to her old self; perversely, he missed fighting with her, missed the way she could fire his anger in one minute and his ardor in the next. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, hoping to elicit a response, and she opened her mouth to him and returned his kiss, but tiredly, as though she was lifeless. He broke off, and looked into her eyes, noting the sadness there, mistaking it for worry.

"I'll be all right, Luv, I promise. Have supper waiting for us?"

She nodded mutely, biting her lower lip to stop the trembling, and watched as the gang all left. She spent the next few hours fixing dinner and straightening the camp, trying to keep from thinking too much. When the gang returned, she served them silently, then went to bed, claiming exhaustion. She lay in her bed as the comradely laughter of the others tormented her.

When Allan stumbled into bed, Deirdre was already asleep. It was too dark for him to see the dried tear tracks on her face.

* * *

The next morning, Marian arrived at the camp. Deirdre had already left to go off in search of more herbs. Allan and Robin were sparring, but Robin was distracted by Marian's arrival, and Allan knocked the wind out of him with the flat of his blade.

Marian looked down at his kneeling form, as he tried to get his breath back.

"You know, most men don't literally fall to their knees to worship me," she teased.

Robin glanced up, a grin on his face.

"But then, I'm not most men, My Love."

"No, you have the arrogance of _two_ men."

"Not that I'm complaining about you being here, but why are you here? Have you decided to come and stay finally?"

"I've told you, green doesn't suit me. I came to find out why you haven't taken any of the sheriff's deliveries."

Robin's face sobered and he looked to Allan, who glanced at the ground before answering.

"Deirdre was hurt on the first one. She thought there might be more guards and came to tell us, but got caught by 'em 'erself. One of 'em stabbed 'er. It was bad. So we ain't been since, not 'til yesterday."

Marian's face had paled at Allan's words. "She's all right, isn't she?" She glanced wildly around, looking for her friend.

"Yeah, she's all right now, but it was close."

Marian turned a solemn face to Allan. "What about…I mean, is she still…?"

"The babe's all right."

Marian released a breath she had not realized she had been holding.

"Where is she now?"

"Out gettin' some herbs. Said she'd be by the stream."

"Robin, we need to talk. I'll be back soon." With that, Marian took off to check on Deirdre.

* * *

Deirdre sat on a rock by the stream, staring idly at the very spot where she and Allan had made love so passionately only a couple of months before. Her knees were drawn up, arms resting on them, with her chin resting on her arms. She sighed deeply, wrestling with her inner demons. She loved Allan so much and could not believe how much she already loved the baby inside of her. She would not leave Allan again—she had seen first-hand how that had torn him up—but she just wanted to feel useful. She was used to being in the thick of things and the gang's chatter last night about the raid just past and of the ones to come had made her feel like she was on the outside looking in. It hurt less to just not be there, and so she had decided to spend her days away, gathering herbs and berries, coming up with any excuse to not spend the day at camp with the conquering heroes. She didn't hear Marian softly calling her name until the dark-haired woman was standing directly in front of her.

"Deirdre?" Marian had been calling her friend's name since she had stepped from the forest's edge, not wanting to startle her, but Deirdre seemed completely lost in her reverie.

Deirdre blinked and looked up, her eyes focusing finally on Marian's face.

"Marian? What are you doing here?"

"You know, I'm going to start taking offense if people keep asking me that."

Deirdre lowered her brow in consternation at Marian's words.

"Never mind." Marian sat next to Deirdre on the rock, mimicking her position. "How are you anyway? Allan said you had been hurt."

"Umm hmm."

"Well, what happened?"

Deirdre snorted. "I'm sure you already heard all about it, about how irresponsible I was and how I disobeyed him and nearly killed the baby and myself in the process."

"No. He said that you came to try to warn them about extra guards and got hurt when one of them stabbed you. He did say you were hurt pretty badly."

Deirdre stared at Marian, jaw agape. "Did he sound mad?"

"He sounded scared, worried."

Deirdre blinked at this unexpected news. She was not surprised at his worry, just at his lack of anger.

"So what happened? I want to hear your side of it."

"Mostly, what Allan said. He did tell me to stay at camp, but the more I thought on it, the more I knew there would be guards lurking about. I went to warn them, but came upon the guards too suddenly. I knocked one out, but two others caught me. I got away and it turned to a sword fight. You know I'm good with the sword," at this, Marian nodded, "but then I lost my footing and one of the guards stabbed me." Deirdre held her hand to the spot just below her breasts where the scar would still be visible if she were unclothed.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Deirdre's answer was a little too quick, a little too forceful, and Marian cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. So how's castle life?" Deirdre tried to change the subject.

Marian sighed. "Guy's decided to marry me at the end of September."

Normally, such a statement would have had Deirdre up in arms, but instead, she asked, "Where will the wedding be?"

Marian turned an incredulous look on the blonde woman who was sitting blithely beside her.

"There will be no wedding!" Until that moment, Marian had not made her decision.

"Why not?"

"Are you serious? I cannot marry Guy. I love Robin."

"So what will you do?"

Marian looked at the gently flowing stream. "I don't know."

"You could run away. My family would probably shelter you."

"Why couldn't I come here?"

Deirdre seemed genuinely confused, and not at all herself. Marian was honestly worried.

"Deirdre, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not yourself."

"I'm fine, really."

Marian stared at her stubborn friend, finally sighing as she realized no answer would be forthcoming. She stood up and hopped down from the rock.

"Walk with me back to camp?"

"No, I'm going to stay here a bit longer. You go ahead."

With a frown, Marian turned and left.

* * *

Marian strode belligerently up to Allan.

"What happened to her?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, something's wrong with her."

"Well o' course. I told you she was stabbed."

"That's not what I mean. She's not the same woman."

"What are you on about? O' course she's the same woman."

"No. Something's changed. I told her I was to marry Gisbourne and she asked me where the wedding would be."

"What?" Robin, walking toward them, had overheard Marian's statement and replied in unison with Allan.

"You're marrying Gisbourne?" Robin glowered at her.

"Again? Didn't you already get caught up in that mess?" Allan's glib question and his lack of understanding about Deirdre made Marian's blood boil.

"You," she stabbed a finger into Allan's chest, "are an idiot! There's something wrong with your wife that has nothing to do with stab wounds. Something's missing. Here," she pointed to her head, "and here!" she thumped her chest above her breasts. "And you," she turned on Robin, "are an idiot as well! I am not marrying Guy, although he has already set a date. Help me out of it!"

Robin moved in closer, and Allan cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go check on Deirdre," he claimed as he made his way into the forest.

Robin pulled Marian's body nearer until she was molded to him; he bent his head to place a kiss on her lips as he held her cheek in the palm of his hand.

"You cannot marry Gisbourne. You have already promised to marry me."

Marian could feel his desire pressing against her and a little thrill went through her body as she molded herself to him.

"Yes, well at least Guy has set a date."

"Stay here and we'll be handfasted before dark."

"Guy owns property."

"_My_ property! And besides, I own all Sherwood."

"And everything in it?" she cooed, pressing her lips against his.

"And everything in it," he murmured against her mouth before capturing her lips again.

* * *

Allan was not really sure what Marian was talking about, but he had definitely wanted to get away from her and Robin before they turned all lovey-dovey; no wonder Much complained about him and Deirdre. Thinking of his wife, he frowned, trying to see what Marian had said. Sure, Deirdre had been quiet lately, her kisses much more subdued. Come to think of it, when he had hitched up her dress the other night and slipped gently into her, she had just lain there; no squeezing him, no urging him on, no scratching or biting, just accepting. That was definitely odd. And so was the fact that she was wearing dresses every day now; she had barely worn a dress since coming to the camp, claiming that pants were easier in the forest. Now that he thought about it, there were a lot of little things that were just _wrong_, as Marian had said; the more he thought, the more he felt foolish for not having noticed before. He came upon her, sitting by the stream on a boulder, in the same position that Marian had seen her.

"Deirdre," he called softly once, then louder.

She turned, startled at the sound of his voice, then glanced skyward quickly before her gaze came back to him. She scrambled down from the rock.

"I'm sorry, Allan. Is it late? I didn't realize…"

"No, it ain't late. I just came to talk to you, is all. You ain't been around much the last few days and I missed you."

"Oh. I'm sorry. We can go back if you want."

Allan frowned. Marian was right—this was not his wife.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."

Allan gestured toward her with his hand. "I mean all this."

"I'm sorry. I guess I got dirty. Shall I bathe before I come back?"

Allan's body responded to the suggestion, but not to the way the words were said, like she was asking his permission.

"That's not what I mean."

He closed the distance between them, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him when she would have looked at the ground. Her eyes wavered, scooting quickly away to the side rather than being held by his gaze.

"Look at me." It was a command, pure and simple. He looked into her eyes and saw pain and loss; the power of it hit him like fallen tree. "What's wrong, Luv? Why're you so sad?"

Deirdre made an attempt at a smile. "There's nothing wrong. I'm fine."

Allan quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're lyin' to me. I won't 'ave you lyin' to me."

His eyes bored into her soul, forcing her to comply.

"I…" she loved him so much, and if he was seeing her pain, she was not playing her part well enough. She vowed to renew her efforts, to make him happy, no matter what.

"I've just been tired, is all." At his disbelieving look, she added, "And I guess that sword stroke scared me more than I care to admit. I just want to be cautious from now on. For the baby."

Allan wrapped his arm around her head and pulled her close, kissing her hair. "It'll be all right, Luv. I'll keep you safe, I swear. I love you and I ain't gonna let nobody hurt you or the babe. D'you trust me?"

He pushed her back slightly to look on her face. Deirdre's mouth turned up faintly and she nodded.

"I do, Allan."

"Well, all right then." Allan pulled her back and held her close.

**A/N: For those of you who've been pregnant, you know that hormones will drive you crazy--up one minute, down the next; it's usually worse with the first one, because you don't quite know what to expect, so there's a bit of fear in there too. Deirdre's also feeling that huge loss of the freedom she had, so her emotions are a bit whacky right now.**


	14. Chapter 14: Sacrifice

Chapter Fourteen: Sacrifice

Allan and Deirdre arrived back in camp to find Robin and Marian arguing.

"I'm going back. Now, before I'm missed."

"Marian, it's not safe. Unless you _want_ to marry Gisbourne."

"No, I don't, but…"

"But what, Marian? There are no decisions to be made. You'll stay here. Anything else that you _need_ from the castle, we'll sneak in and get for you."

"I won't be commanded. I'm not one of your men!" Marian declared hotly.

"Fine. Go back to Nottingham. Marry Gisbourne. It's obviously what you want anyway." Robin made to turn away when a soft voice stopped him.

"Kirklees," Deirdre nearly whispered.

"What?" Robin and Marian turned to her.

Deirdre stood with Allan's arm around her shoulder; she looked at the other couple with some trepidation.

"Marian could go to Kirklees. But Robin's right too, Marian—you can't go back to Nottingham if you expect to get out of there again as an unmarried woman. Guy already lost you once, and on top of that, when I married Allan…well, he'll be a bit more cautious, I would think, as the time draws near."

Allan smiled beatifically at his wife. "That's my girl, always thinkin'. You know that plan'll work, but only if you go now, like Deirdre says. When's the weddin' to be?"

"September twenty-second," Marian replied.

"It's August now. If you managed to slip away from Giz, I say keep slippin' before 'e ties you up proper."

Marian frowned, seeming to think.

Robin's anger, which had begun to cool, heated up again as Marian didn't answer right away.

"It's not that hard a decision, Marian. You can marry Gisbourne, you can marry me or you can go to Kirklees."

As Marian pondered, Deirdre looked up at Allan.

"Give us a minute?" she requested of both men.

Allan shrugged and wandered off, accompanied by a glowering Robin.

When the men were gone, Deirdre turned to Marian.

"What's really bothering you?"

"I could ask you the same question," Marian replied a little hotly.

"But I'm not important right now." Deirdre's soft reply worried Marian, but before she could comment, Deirdre continued. "Do you want to marry Guy?"

"No!" Marian's answer was vehement.

"Guy does have land and money and power. You could be comfortable as his wife."

"Are you regretting your decision to marry Allan?"

Deirdre considered before answering. "There are times when I wish that marrying Allan had not led us here; when I wish we were comfortably settled in a house on my da's lands…" Deirdre paused, blinking back the tears as she thought of the family she could never again see without risking their lives. She had given up everything for Allan—wealth, power, land—and she still was sacrificing for him; she knew that if it came to it, she would sacrifice her very life. A woman always sacrificed when she married, Deirdre could at least take comfort in the fact that she had married someone she loved. She squared her shoulders. "But I'm not the one we're discussing here. Do you wish to marry Guy?"

"I don't wish to marry at all right now. And besides, if I disappear, Guy will be suspicious and he'll come to the forest. If he loses me to Robin after losing you to Allan, he will hunt them down worse than ever."

"So Kirklees it is then," Deirdre finished.

Marian sighed, "Kirklees it is. But I do have to return to Nottingham first so Guy and the sheriff know that I'm off to Kirklees, so they don't come looking for me in the forest."

Deirdre knew Marian was right, but worried for her nonetheless. "Let's go tell the men, shall we?"

* * *

Will had been showing Djaq how to carve objects from wood; it was a pretense to be alone and both of them knew it. Djaq was sitting on a rock with Will beside her, showing her the rudiments after he had already shown her how to choose the proper piece of wood. He leaned closer to inspect her work, reaching a calloused hand over to point out where she had done well and where she needed more work; he blushed furiously as his arm grazed across her small breasts.

Djaq inhaled sharply at the feel of Will's arm brushing across her chest. He was showing her how to carve, but all she really wanted was to feel his warm lips on hers again, his strong arms around her body. She leaned closer, her eyes closed, lips parted slightly in expectation. When this received no response, she opened her eyes to find Will concentrating heavily on the piece of wood in front of him, his face flushed in embarrassment.

"Will, you care for me, yes?" she asked bluntly.

If it was possible, the young carpenter's face became even redder. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Then kiss me, you silly man!" she demanded, grinning at him.

A smile split his own face a moment before he captured her lips with his, pulling her close as the pieces of wood that they had been working on fell unnoticed from the rock.

* * *

Robin saw the reason behind Marian's decision, but was still in a foul temper for the rest of the night. Allan would have stayed up with Robin longer despite his bad mood, but decided to go into bed with his wife when she went.

Deirdre unlaced the top to her over-tunic, surprised when the door to their bower opened and Allan ducked in.

"What are you doing here?"

Allan smiled at her crookedly, "I'm not bein' funny Luv, but I live 'ere."

"Well, yes, but…you usually stay up a bit."

"And tonight, I want to climb into bed with my wife while she's still awake."

"Oh," Deirdre responded shortly.

Allan began to help with the laces that were yet to be undone on her top, and helped her pull the dress over her head. Deirdre moved to climb under the covers, but was stopped by Allan's hand on her arm. He pulled her close, feathering her face and neck with kisses. Deirdre closed her eyes, trying to shut off her mind and let her body just enjoy the attentions of her husband, hoping that in time she could forget the things she no longer had and focus instead on those she did. A low moan escaped her throat as his hands traveled down from her neck and came to rest on her breasts, his thumbs teasing her taut nipples. A couple of moments later, Allan had grabbed her dress and was putting it back on her, much to Deirdre's confusion.

"What…?"

"I think we oughta take a little walk," Allan responded, his breathing ragged.

"But Allan, I'm too tired to go for a walk." Deirdre didn't know what he was up to, nor was she sure she wanted to.

Allan leaned closer to whisper in her ear, sending a thrill through her body. "All you 'ave to do is walk out o' the camp and I'll carry you the rest of the way." His hands continued to stroke her arms proprietarily.

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace we don't 'ave to be quiet." Allan's teeth tugged on an earlobe and Deirdre nearly swooned—the evil man _knew_ how much she enjoyed that.

"I see," Deirdre swallowed nervously, "but won't they all know what we're up to?"

"Would you rather them _hear_ what we're up to?"

"You make a good point." Deirdre walked quickly through the door and out of the camp, followed by Allan.

"Now where are _they_ going?" Much asked, watching the couple leave. "And where have you two been?" he added, as Will and Djaq returned to camp; Djaq's short hair was slightly mussed, her lips swollen and pink, as were Will's. The two colored and walked to their beds without responding.

* * *

True to his word, Allan picked Deirdre up as soon as they were on solid ground outside the camp; he carried her by moonlight all the way to their cave, where he laid her gently on the ground as he went about lighting their camp-fire from the kindling they kept in one of the smaller openings. Once the fire was going, Allan lifted Deirdre to her feet and began to unlace her dress again.

"Now where were we?" he murmured against her neck as his thumbs again found her nipples through the shift.

"I believe we were right about there," Deirdre responded, her head thrown back, eyes closed in bliss. Her hands caught in Allan's hair as he bent lower to suckle on a pert nipple through the cloth of her shift. Deirdre's breath came in ragged gasps as he sucked first softly, then nearly biting her; he moved to her other nipple while his thumb pinched and rubbed the first one.

Allan dropped to his knees and pushed up her shift, kissing her growing belly before moving lower to tug on her sex with his teeth, satisfied when he heard her cry out. He was going to get his wife back tonight, if he had to drive her over the edge to do it. He was determined that the passive woman who had shared his body the other night would not be there tonight; tonight, he wanted his scratching, clawing, biting, screaming, passionate wife back and he would do whatever he had to do to find her. He smiled inwardly as he pushed his tongue up into her core and she nearly collapsed.

Deirdre had been feeling sad and lonely and useless, but with Allan's hands and mouth working on her body, none of that seemed to matter. She watched him in anticipation as he got down on his knees and began kissing her belly; when his teeth grabbed and pulled on her nub, she thought she would die from the pleasure of it. Then, the shift fell back down to cover him, too, and his tongue was diving deeply into her. It was extremely erotic to feel his tongue pushing into her, lapping at her, and to not be able to see him; she felt her legs begin to buckle and grabbed his shoulders under the shift for support.

Allan couldn't believe how good she tasted. It had been so long since he had done this to her and he wanted to savor the moment, a starving man brought to a feast. He felt his cock straining against his breeches, but he would leave them on for a time yet, to avoid the temptation of slipping into her before he thought she was ready. He pushed his tongue deeply into her channel over and over again, and before long, felt her body tense as she found her release, crying his name. He wiped his mouth on her shift, then stood to pull it over her head.

Deirdre was having a hard time standing. Allan's tongue was always magical, whether he was using it to spin a story or to spin her out of control. She could barely breathe as he made love to her with it, now licking, now moving it in and out of her body until she came, unable to control the shaking in her legs. She watched as Allan appeared from under her shift, wiping his face, then standing to bring the shift over her head. He pulled her down to the ground and laid her on her back and she squeezed her lower body in anticipation. Rather than removing his clothes and lying with her though, Allan knelt by her side and went back to suckling her nipples as his fingers took over where his tongue had been before. He rubbed and squeezed at her sex before sliding his fingers further down to rest against her now-wet opening. Deirdre couldn't control the wiggling of her hips as she waited for him to slip a finger into her.

Allan kept rubbing her inner thighs, moving his hand back to rest just below her belly, then moving back to her thighs. He could feel the anticipation building in her every time his fingers brushed over her entrance, the let-down when they moved on. He smiled and bit down on a nipple as Deirdre sighed in frustration yet again.

"Ow! Allan, please!"

"Please what, Luv?" he questioned, looking innocently up at her.  
"Stop toying with me," she whined.

"Deirdre, I've only begun to toy with you." His words were a growled threat which had her eager and annoyed at the same time. He chuckled low in his throat at her look of annoyance, a look he had not realized he had missed so much. Her blonde brows were lowered over glittering blue eyes and her pink lips were pursed as the frown pulled those same lips down; her nostrils pinched until he began suckling at her breast again.

Allan moved his mouth lower, laughing to himself as Deirdre's legs twitched. He took her sex back between his teeth and almost casually slipped a finger into her, grinning at the cry that escaped her throat. He moved his finger in and out slowly as she writhed beneath him, begging him for more.

Another finger, and another, slipped into her, and Deirdre felt like she would shatter if he didn't just take off his pants and get inside of her. Allan sat back on his haunches; as he had said though, he was not done with her yet. She felt his fingers move inside of her gently at first, then hard and fast, slamming into her body with the strength of her husband's sword arm behind them. She was nearly at her release when he removed his fingers abruptly. Deirdre hoped that he had stopped in order to remove his pants and thrust into her, but a moment later, she felt his finger gently swirling the hair at her opening, before slipping slowly back into her.

"Oh, God, Allan! Please! I want you inside of me so bad."

"Then make me a promise,"

She would have promised to walk through fire at that moment if he would only get undressed and get inside of her.

"Anything!"

"I want you like this in my bed from now on." A thrust of his finger punctuated his words. "And no more acting all apologetic and such—if you want somethin', I want you to fight for it." Thrust—a second finger. "I want you 'appy, Deirdre, even if it sods me off sometimes." Thrust—his third finger, and now all three fingers were buried deep inside of her body, tickling her inner walls. "Promise me, Deirdre, to be who you are, because I don't like who you've become in the past few days." His other hand had released the buckle and the tie on his breeches, which now fell to his knees.

Deirdre looked down to see him, hard and ready for her and she wriggled with need.

"Yes, Allan, I promise!"

"Wrong answer." He pulled his fingers out of her, slowly pushing them back in.

"Then what do you want me to say?" Deirdre was nearly crying with need now.

"Wrong answer," he repeated, removing his fingers and then shoving them unhurriedly into her again.

"Jesus, Allan! Just get undressed and get inside of me before I die!"

Despite the fingers in her center, Deirdre sat up and ripped open his shirt, flinging it aside when he pulled his fingers out of her. She grabbed him and yanked his body down to her, her hand wrapped firmly around his length, guiding him to her core. Allan's strong hands dug into her hips as he thrust himself deeply into her, pushing as far as he could go until he felt his balls against her butt cheeks.

"Right answer," he panted at her as he drove in and out of her, her hips matching his rhythm, her nails leaving marks on his lower back and buttocks, her teeth doing the same to his shoulder and neck. Before long, they both cried out, their voices echoing in the cave, and collapsed in sheer exhaustion.

* * *

**A/N: She's ba-aaaaaaccccckkkkkk! Now what? Happy Mother's Day!**


	15. Chapter 15: Concessions

Chapter Fifteen: Concessions

Allan and Deirdre awoke the next morning stiff and sore from last night's lovemaking. They decided that hair of the dog was the best cure, and Allan hissed in pleasure as her hand stroked over his balls, then moved up to squeeze his throbbing erection. She grabbed one of his nipples in her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, then nipping it gently before continuing to suckle. Allan's arm was wrapped around her and he squeezed her shoulder as she made love to him, glad to have the woman he loved back. Deirdre moved up to kiss him properly, her tongue diving into his mouth; if he really just wanted her to be herself, she could do that with a much lighter heart.

Allan rolled her over and Deirdre automatically wrapped her legs around his torso as he pressed himself against her soft entrance for a moment before he slid gently inside of her.

"Mmmm…God, Luv, it feels good to 'ave you back," he murmured in her ear as he snuggled his hips against hers.

Deirdre nipped his earlobe and squeezed him tight. "Are you sure you don't want me to behave like a proper wife?"

"If it means you ain't 'appy…no. I love you, Deirdre. I know I didn't tell you that enough before, but I'm gonna change that now." Allan gazed deep into her eyes, and Deirdre could see the conviction there.

"You know, I'm going to really annoy you sometimes."

"Yeah, well, so long's you make it up by being my wild wife in our bed, I imagine I'll forgive you."

Deirdre grinned and thrust her hips at him, raking his back with her nails. "So it's okay if I go on raids with you and the gang?"

Allan frowned as he thought again of how close she and the baby had come to death. "Why's it always gotta be somethin' dangerous?"  
"Allan…"  
"I know, I know…make up my mind. I want you 'appy—I just don't want you hurt; is that so wrong for a man to want 'is wife and child safe?"

"But we're not safe, Allan. None of us are. Not until Richard returns and deals with John. All I want to do is help."

Allan sighed heavily, feeling himself soften inside of her. "Look Deirdre, if you're just not in the mood…"

Deirdre, feeling him begin to slip out of her, laughed lightly, wiggling her hips and squeezing him tightly as she reached down to stroke his flank. She was rewarded for her efforts when Allan's breathing became more rapid and he swelled inside of her again, closing his eyes in bliss.

Allan reached down to take an earlobe into his mouth, sucking and nipping on it, causing Deirdre to cry out in pleasure. He pulled slowly out of her and eased back in, going as deep as he could, each thrust completely unhurried, taking his time, knowing she would lose patience soon. She moaned and writhed underneath him, the sound and smell and feel of her making it difficult to keep his control, particularly when she locked her ankles on the small of his back and began thrusting her hips up at him more quickly, urging him to go faster.

"Lord, Allan, you feel so good," she whispered in his ear and he began to move faster; she matched him thrust for thrust. He felt it coming, the fluttering that meant she was going over the edge and buried himself in her as she cried out, pushing her hips hard against his.

"I guess I do feel good, eh?" he grinned at her as he began to pick up the rhythm again. He could see a fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip and her eyes were bright. He dipped his head to inhale her scent; she smelled of their lovemaking and the herbs she picked, a powerful aphrodisiac to the primitive male in him. She was _his_—only _he_ could do this to her, only _he_ could make her moan and writhe in pleasure, only _he_ could fill her belly with his seed, watching it grow inside of her. He pulled out of her, waiting until her legs began to twitch in anticipation before he thrust back into her, hard and deep, burying himself in her. He waited a moment before repeating the process, slowly pulling out of her, holding, then thrusting violently back into her. She was nearing the edge again, he could feel it; she seemed to have lost control of her body—moaning, whimpering, shuddering underneath him. Gradually, he picked up the pace, levering himself in and out of her; she matched him, squeezing him on every inward thrust until they both found their release.

When they had finally caught their breath again, Deirdre spoke into Allan's ear.

"So, helping…?"

Allan pushed himself slowly up until his arms were straight and he could look at her face. He cocked an eyebrow at her disbelievingly.

"So were you thinking about that the whole time we was…?"

Deirdre had the decency to look horrified. "Of course not! Not the _whole_ time," she added, then giggled as he began tickling her ribs. Soon she was screaming, tears rolling down her face as Allan kept up his assault, finally giving in to her pleas to stop and pulling her to him to nip at her neck.

"You're a 'orrible, rotten woman, you know that?"

"But one who wants to be helpful," Deirdre persisted.

"Peace, woman! You are helpful. You help with the cookin', which pleases Much and that makes everyone's life easier. You help with the little chores around camp and you keep the gang's best front man satisfied," he grinned at her.

Deirdre glanced sidelong at him from under her lashes. "Yeah, but Robin's not nearly as fun as you are."

Allan's eyes widened a moment before he began to tickle her again; when he stopped this time, the grin vanished from his face to be replaced by a thoughtful look.

"Is it not enough that you help us by keeping us warm and fed?" Allan already knew the answer, but he was grasping at straws.

"Allan, I need to be _with_ all of you, in the thick of it." She grabbed a calloused hand and kissed his palm, the action sending shivers down his spine.

"You stay out of it for now, at least until the baby's born. I won't back down on that one, Deirdre."

Deirdre considered for a moment, knowing that she would become bigger and more ungainly, and would be more hindrance than help in a battle, at least for the next few months.

"All right, but after the baby comes, I'll be wanting to be included again."

Allan frowned, knowing he had no real choice, but hoping she would prefer to stay at camp with the baby.

"So where's the baby gonna be in all this? You can't take 'im with—I won't allow that, no matter what."

"She'll stay at camp of course."

"Alone?"

"With one of you."

"Who?" Allan asked suspiciously.

"Well, sometimes I would stay with her and sometimes Djaq would stay with her and sometimes you could stay with her…we could all take turns."

"Take turns?"

"Did I stutter? It's the only fair way."

"Yeah, well, you're 'is mother," Allan muttered darkly.

"And you're her father."

"And what's all this 'her'? I'm not bein' funny, Deirdre, but it'll be a boy."

"What makes you say that?"

"I just know, is all."

"Well, you're wrong."

"How do you know?"

"I'm the mother. _I_ know."

"Of course you do, Luv, but it's gonna be awkward namin' our daughter 'Tom'."

Deirdre smiled and elbowed Allan in the ribs; he dodged the strike he had figured was coming and rolled her onto her back, kissing her swelling belly.

Deirdre laughed as she felt the tickling inside of her, like butterflies were trapped in her belly.

"What?" Allan asked in consternation.

Deirdre placed a hand on her belly, grabbing Allan's hand with her other one.

"There. Can you feel that?"

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "Did I feel what?"

"You didn't feel it?"

"No."

Deirdre's smile turned inward as she closed her eyes, basking in the knowledge that she was feeling the first movements of her baby.

* * *

Guy stormed into Marian's chambers just as she was packing her last trunk.

"You cannot do this to me, Marian!" he cried without preamble.

"Sir Guy, I'm afraid you have me at a loss. What have I done to you?"

He noted her formality, and it only stoked his anger.

"I told you we would be married. One month from today, in fact. You cannot decide _now_ to take holy orders. Again."

"I can and I will. As you pointed out, you _told_ me we would be married. You never asked. And moving up the date on me was unkind—whatever happened to 'when the king returns'? I have decided that since my presence here is obviously a distraction, I will simply have to go elsewhere. Besides, I have been feeling lost since my father died. I should like to have some time to come to terms with my feelings. Perhaps a year or two living with the sisters…"

"A year or two?" Guy broke in incredulously. "I cannot let you do it, Marian. Guards!" he called to the waiting men as he strode from the room.

"What are you doing?" Marian was nervous as the guards stood before Guy, awaiting his orders.

His words were to the guards, but for her as well; he looked at her with hot anger in his eyes.

"See to it the Lady Marian does not leave her room." He turned to leave as Marian cried out and lunged after him, only to be stopped by the guards. Turning back, he fixed her in his gaze again. "Make no mistake, Marian, we will be married this time."

* * *

Allan and Deirdre strolled back into camp around midday. Deirdre yawned and stretched before kissing her husband and heading for their bower for an afternoon nap. Allan grabbed a bowl of venison and a hunk of bread before sitting by the fire, hungrily tearing into both.

"What?" he asked at the bemused expressions on the faces of Robin and Little John. Much had gone to acquire more bread, while Will and Djaq were skulking around Nottingham for any information that the gang might find useful. Robin was concerned for Marian, and if she didn't get out of Nottingham soon, he would go and liberate her, whether she liked it or not.

Little John and Robin shared a knowing look; it was Little John who responded.

"So, things're back to normal with you two?"

"Yeah." Allan kept his answer short as he was busy chewing and swallowing.

"You seem to have worked up quite an appetite," Robin added with a sly grin.

"Yeah." Allan quickly raised a cup of ale to his lips to wash down the food, a rare blush staining his cheeks as he felt his groin tighten in remembrance of the morning and the night before spent with Deirdre. He was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Djaq, followed closely by Much, who stored the bread, talking all the while of the latest gossip from Clun, though no one was listening, their eyes focused on Djaq's serious face. Robin stood up quickly, his former joviality gone in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he bit off.

Much still hadn't noticed the sudden tension in the camp. "I just told you—Mrs. Gray's cock has been waking everyone up in the middle of the night and will soon be in a pot if he keeps it up…" Much turned, the smile on his face disappearing at everyone else's intense focus on Djaq. "What?"

Djaq spoke then, having regained her breath from her long run back to camp. "Marian spoke to the sheriff about going to Kirklees. Guy was not pleased."

"I'm not bein' funny, but who cares if Guy's 'pleased'? It ain't like 'e's in charge or nothin'. So'd the sheriff say it was okay or what?"

Djaq continued, "Guy has locked her in her room. He claims she will stay there until she marries him."

Allan sobered quickly as he thought back to when Guy had locked Deirdre in her room in preparation for marrying _her_.

"What is it with Guy and lockin' up 'is brides?" Allan spoke to no one in particular.

"It's the only way he can keep a woman," Robin responded darkly.

"Yeah, well, we proved 'im wrong on that before, eh?" Allan gestured with his head toward the bower where Deirdre slept.

Robin's face was grim. "We need a plan. We get her out. Tonight."

Allan nodded mute agreement as the others responded in kind and they all sat to quickly hatch a plan of rescue.

As the others gathered their weapons, Allan stepped inside the bower to tell Deirdre where they were off to. His wife lay on their bed facing the door, eyes closed, lashes splayed across her upper cheekbone. One arm was curled up under her head, the other lay protectively over her growing belly; her legs were slightly bent, one foot sticking out from under the light blanket she had pulled over herself. Her breathing was deep and even. Allan decided to leave her alone and let her get her rest—they would be back the next day anyway and Deirdre was smart enough to figure that if they were gone, they would not be so for long.

As Allan ducked back outside the bower, he was in time to hear Robin telling Djaq, "Stay here with Deirdre. We'll be back before dawn."

Djaq nodded and moved to sit by the fire. "Will is at the Trip," she advised as the men hurried away.


	16. Chapter 16: Rescue

Chapter Sixteen: Rescue

Deirdre awoke to moonlight filtering through the branches that covered the bower she and Allan shared. She heard the hoot of an owl, the rustling of small animals trying to make their way back to their homes before the owl found them out, the sighing of the night breeze as it tickled its way through the higher branches on the trees. What she didn't hear was the sound of voices pitched low out of habit or the soft snoring of her husband asleep next to her. Puzzled, she rose from her bed and peeked out at the camp. Djaq looked up from her seat by the fire and smiled at Deirdre, a knife in one hand, a small piece of wood in the other.

Deirdre picked her way over and sat by the small fire with Djaq.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"They have gone to Nottingham," Djaq replied succinctly, suddenly finding renewed interest in her carving.

Deirdre's stomach rumbled, reminding her that the last time she had eaten had been the night before, and she set to work making some dinner, picking on the bread Much had brought in earlier as she worked. She cut chunks of dried beef, then took turnips, carrots and onions from the larder and began chopping them, putting them into a pot with some water and placed the whole carefully over the fire, stoking it with more wood.

"What for?" Deirdre asked, stirring the pot.

Djaq looked at the other woman, non-plussed. "I'm sorry?"

"What did they go to Nottingham for? And when did they leave?" Deirdre never stopped stirring, hoping the simple action would mask her disquiet.

Djaq hesitated, the knife stopping in mid-stroke before she began carving again. "They went to get Marian."

Deirdre stopped the spoon, raising her eyes to cock one eyebrow disbelievingly at Djaq. "Don't you mean, 'rescue Marian'?"

Djaq stopped carving again and looked up to meet Deirdre's steady gaze. "Yes."

"What happened?" Deirdre looked through her herbs carefully, choosing thyme and parsley to flavor the stew.

"Gisbourne has her locked up until the wedding."

Deirdre snorted, then pursed her lips thoughtfully as she set the lid on the pot and carefully removed a few of the burning pieces of wood, putting them out in the sand, so that the now-boiling food would not burn. Once more picking up the bread, she sat and offered a piece to Djaq while they waited for the stew to cook.

"He seems to make a habit of that, locking up potential brides." Deirdre looked inquiringly at Djaq. "So why are you here and not with the others?" At Djaq's look of embarrassment, Deirdre nodded in understanding. "You're here to make sure I don't do something stupid."

"Deirdre, I am sorry…" Djaq began

Deirdre spoke through tight lips. "No. I deserve it. Although, after last night, I would've thought Allan would trust me more."

"It was not Allan; it was Robin who asked me to stay. Perhaps it is you who should trust Allan more. He only wants to do what is right by you. We all do."

Deirdre's face flamed red in embarrassment at Djaq's words. She was beginning to get a little sick of the taste of the crow she kept having to eat.

"You're right, Djaq. I've been awful lately. It's just…it's like I said before; it's difficult to lose so much freedom so suddenly. To be outlawed by Prince John himself and not able to see my family anymore, to be pregnant and not able to ride and fight and steal and dance and…"

"Wait! Who said you cannot dance?"

"Well, I just thought with all the rest…"

"Can you walk? Can you run? Has Madeline said you cannot dance?"

"Well yes, I mean, no…I mean, of course I can walk and run and Madeline has not said that I cannot dance."

"Come on then, get up!" Djaq urged, standing and holding out her hand to help Deirdre to rise. Djaq began singing a song from her childhood in Acre and the two women swayed in time as Djaq taught Deirdre the complicated dance pattern, a story told in subtle movements of hips and hands. Next, Deirdre taught Djaq a romping jig, the women's feet moving so fast they nearly tripped. A few more songs and the girls collapsed, breathing heavily in exhaustion and laughing hard.

Catching her breath, Deirdre smiled at Djaq. "I'm sorry, Djaq."

"For what?" the Saracen woman asked, still laughing.

"For the things I said on the road to Scarborough. I know you have feelings for Will, not Allan. And more importantly, I know Allan's feelings for me are too strong for him to stray."

"No apology needed. And you're wrong about one thing—I do love Allan, just as a brother, nothing more."

Deirdre smiled in acknowledgement, the smile fading as an owl hooted and she came to the realization that the men were not back yet. Djaq placed a hand on her arm in empathy.

"They may not be back until morning, perhaps later. You should get some rest."

Deirdre nodded mutely as Djaq banked the fire, and they went to their beds. Her eyelids felt too heavy to hold up; despite the thoughts racing through her mind and her worry for the gang, her body was forcing her to rest. She had no intention of breaking her word to Allan about staying out of trouble for now, but if they were not back soon, she would have to go looking, with or without Djaq.

* * *

Nottingham had been easy to get into during the day, as was usually the case, and the gang had passed the time until dark handing out small bags of money to the people and chatting with the merchants. As darkness had fallen, they had slipped one by one into the castle to gather in the chapel, a place they knew would be unpopulated by Vasey and his ilk. They slept in shifts, waiting for night to turn to the dark of early morning, when everyone would be deep asleep, before starting out.

"Much, John, you're with me," Robin spoke softly into the silent oratory, before turning to Will and Allan. "You two, guard our escape; we'll go out through the kitchen. Let's go, Lads," he added, turning back to Much and John. The five men made their way out of the chapel, splitting into their groups in the hall; Robin's group went upstairs to the living quarters, Will and Allan went down the hall to the kitchen.

As they made their way up the stairs, Robin's senses went on alert. It seemed every step of his booted feet on the stones resonated throughout the castle; he could smell the dampness of the cool rock and feel how it was worn smooth under his hand as he trailed it along the wall. The breathing of his companions seemed like a call to arms and he tried to stop his own breathing as the loudness made him scream for silence inside his head. He had his sword in the hand that was not on the wall, the weight of it his only reassurance. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest and despite the coolness, his brow broke out in sweat. Every step brought him closer to his love, but he would not be happy until they were safely away in Sherwood. He watched the shadows dancing along the roof as he neared the top of the stairs; the shadows grew darker and darker as the torches were extinguished, until only two remained—the two on either side of the door to Marian's room. Robin, closely followed by Much and John, crept up into the corridor, staying to the unlighted areas. Robin peeked around a bit of wall and was nearly undone as Guy strode up, berating his guards for slackness and grabbing one of the torches. Gisbourne began walking toward them, carrying the torch in one hand, his sword in the other, seemingly on alert as he began re-lighting the just extinguished torches.

* * *

In the kitchen, Allan and Will had cleared a path to the door and stood on alert at either end, Allan gnawing hungrily on a pie from the larder as he stood by the door leading to the outside. Will stood guard by the short flight of steps that led up to the main floor, careful to stay out of sight. He looked at Allan eating the pie and shook his head; Allan caught the motion from the corner of his eye and raised his eyebrows at Will.

"What?" he whispered defensively.

"Nothing. It's just…how can you eat at a time like this?"

"Well, I gotta eat, don' I?"

"Yeah, aren't you nervous being here again? Plus, if we don't rescue Marian, she'll have to marry Gisbourne."

"Naaa. I've already nipped one bride from 'im. Piece o' cake!" Allan responded, lifting the pie to his friend. "Besides, you wait'll Djaq gets her claws in you—ain't much gonna scare you after that. After the stunts Deirdre pulls, this ain't nothin'!"

Will snorted and turned back to the stairs, mounting them carefully to peer around the corner—and came face-to-face with half a dozen guards.

* * *

Guy was restless. The last time he had locked up a bride, someone—presumably Allan A' Dale—had managed her escape. He would see to it that did not happen this time. Finally, in the small hours of the morning, he had jumped out of bed, deciding to check on Marian himself, but found the hallway too dark when he came to her quarters. He harangued the guards for their laxness, then grabbed one of the torches to begin lighting the hallway. He kept his sword in one hand, just in case, and as he neared the stairs, he was glad of it. The last torch he lit revealed the hiding place of Robin Hood and two of his men. "Guards!" he shouted as he began fighting them, repeating the call over and over until the outlaws' escape was blocked by men coming up the stairs and more swarming the hallway. It was not long until the three men were beaten, standing with heads thrown back as the guardsmen stood with swords at the outlaws' necks.

* * *

Will ducked back down the stairs, shouting a warning to Allan, who dropped the pie and drew his sword. The two men fought, side-by-side, trying to clear enough space to be able to open the door. Swords clashed, steel on steel, as Allan met his attackers; one of them slipped in the pie and went down, slamming his head into the hard-packed earth of the floor. Allan ducked behind Will in an effort to open the door to their escape, but as soon as he pulled it open, he was met by the surprised face of George, Gisbourne's new lieutenant. Allan remembered George as being a sullen underling, and his most enthusiastic torturer outside of Letum when Guy had thrown him in prison last time. Unfortunately, George was with two other men, on watch.

Allan turned back to see what their chances were of going back through the kitchen, but Will had been disarmed and stood surrounded by guards. Allan fought like a demon, but soon was overtaken as Will was trussed and the extra guards attacked him from behind; he turned to face his new attackers and George took the opportunity to slam the pommel of his sword into the base of Allan's neck, knocking him out instantly.

* * *

_In the dungeon, Allan awoke to pain. He looked around blankly for a moment, and then swallowed noisily as realization dawned; he hung from the ceiling, watching the rack being prepared for him. Guards were placing sharp stones on it, while another flogged his bare back, eliciting cries of pain. He was sweating profusely from the heat of the fires, the pain, and the fear. Too soon, they took him down and slammed him onto the stones, chaining him in place, and the pain was so intense, it was like a thousand suns burning his back-side, while the torturer leaned over him, grinning evilly. The cold steel of the sharp, serrated hook felt good for a moment before it was cruelly thrust into the flesh of his belly and twisted, tearing his guts up. A moment later and the torturer yanked his intestines out, white snakes dripping blood, to show to their former owner. Allan's eyelids fluttered as he gave in to the peace of death._

Deirdre awoke with a scream that silenced the early-morning twittering of the birds, the nightmare launching her body out of the bed. She ran for the door of the bower, bumping into Djaq as she opened it. Djaq's eyes were huge in her small face.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

Deirdre swallowed, the fear stopping her words. She shook her head and began grabbing knives, placing them carefully in boot-strops, under her pant-legs, up her shirt-sleeves. Her face was grim as she worked. Finally she spoke.

"We must go to Nottingham. Something has happened. Allan is in trouble."

Djaq's face blanched further. "How do you know?"

"I just do, is all. We cannot waste another minute."

"Deirdre, calm down. We will go, but we must be cautious. I will go to town and see what I can find."

Deirdre set her shoulders, her stubborn steak coming out. "I'll not stay behind. Allan's in danger, as are they all, and there's not much time."

Djaq didn't know how the woman could know such a thing, but she could see it would be more fight than she was willing to give to keep Deirdre in the camp. The two set off for Nottingham to learn what they could.


	17. Chapter 17: Wiles

Chapter Seventeen: Wiles

In the dungeons, the gang languished at the back of the cell, conserving energy so that when an opportunity presented itself, they would be able to escape. Before long, they heard the creak of the metal door and then the shuffle and jangle that meant that the sheriff and Gisbourne were approaching. Vasey nearly hopped up the steps, hands clasped behind his back, humming merrily to himself as he surveyed the incarcerated outlaws. Behind him, Guy seemed just as pleased though in a more controlled way--his eyes cold, his smile showing no teeth.

"Well, well, well. Gisbourne, you've outdone yourself; not just Robin Hood, but all of his little friends as well. Oh, I even see your old playmate with them! How very nice," the sheriff added smugly, looking over the cell. "Left the little women at home, did we? That's all right, they'll be easy enough to catch now without their men to guard them."

Allan was the first to speak up, the lie tripping easily off his tongue. "We sent 'em away. Knew you lot'd be good an' stoked after the last time we beat you. They're livin' with relatives of Djaq's in Germany."

"Germany, eh? You sent your new wife off to Germany, while you're here? I don't think so, _Allan_." Vasey spoke Allan's name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You think he'd keep her here, with Gisbourne after her and the prince mad at her?" Robin asked. "We sent the women where we knew they'd be safe from you lot. Soon, Richard'll be home and we can bring them back, but until then, we know you can't lay hands on them."

Vasey's smile faltered, and Guy's turned to a snarl.

"No matter. There'll soon be no one for them to come home to. Enjoy your stay. You'll be hung tomorrow at dawn. And then, I think I'll send your heads to Prince John to show him my loyalty. Yes, I like that." Vasey turned and jounced out of the dungeon, whistling merrily.

* * *

In the town, Deirdre had spoken to the baker who supplied the castle with their bread. The man recognized her, but would say nothing to endanger the Lady Deirdre, who had given his family so much the previous winter. He had heard a rumor that Robin Hood and his men had been captured and sent to the dungeons.

"I'll send Rufus to find out for sure," he offered, calling over his young son.

"Wait." Deirdre grabbed the boy before he could scamper off. She bent to look him level in the eye. "Find out where they are, if they are all in one cell, how many guards, when are they scheduled for execution. It is very important you get me all of this information, Rufus, do you understand?"

"Yes, Milady." Rufus had eaten last winter largely because of the Lady Deirdre's kindness—he would never let her down; he scampered off with the bread his father had supplied him as a reason for entering the dungeons.

Deirdre and Djaq passed the time hiding behind the blanket that separated the family's home from the bakery. They remained quiet to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. After what seemed an interminably long time, Rufus returned, panting from the run back home.

Deirdre jumped up, grabbing hold of the boy once more, looking down at him this time rather than kneeling. "Well, lad, what did you learn?"

Rufus swallowed, trying to catch his breath still; Djaq handed the boy a cup of water and gently pulled Deirdre's hands from the child's shoulders. Deirdre watched impatiently as the boy swallowed the water, biting her tongue to keep from screaming.

"They're to be 'ung tomorrow, first thing. Then Sheriff's gonna take their 'eads and send 'em to Prince John!"

Deirdre swayed, hanging her head and closing her eyes for a moment as Djaq thanked young Rufus and asked him for the rest of the information before she sent him on his way. "We were never here," the Saracen admonished the boy.

"You were right. They are in trouble. I don't know how you knew and right now it does not matter. What matters is, how do we rescue them?"

Deirdre wrinkled her nose at the strong alcoholic odor of the yeast that was used to help the bread rise, her brow furrowed as she worried her lower lip. "I know how. Come with me." Deirdre rose and beckoned for Djaq to follow her and they snuck back to camp.

* * *

In the dank coolness of the dungeon, the men looked at the food they were handed—stale bread nearly hard enough to use as a weapon and porridge that seemed to be moving of its own volition. They set it aside, figuring that if they were to die, they would rather do it on an empty stomach than eat _that_ food.

Allan grinned at Will, who had turned a particularly odd shade of green. "Now don't you wish you'd 'ad a pie, too?" he teased.

"How can you joke around at a time like this?" the young man demanded, holding out his arms to highlight the chains which bound the outlaws' hands and legs. They were not bound to each other, but each man's leg irons were bound to the same man's wrist irons; they could move about, just not quickly.

"Well, lessee. Last time I was 'ere, I was on a rack of stones in the torture chamber; that after the fellow'd laid my back open a bit. I'd been beaten 'til I couldn't stand and my shoulders was killin' me from 'anging by my arms from the ceiling. This is right cozy, compared."

Robin, leaning on the bars, smiled grimly at Allan's seeming ease. We have to get out of here, lads. If we don't…"

"…the sheriff'll 'ave our heads," Allan finished cheekily.

"You seem awfully at ease for a man who's set to hang," Robin grumbled.

"Well, we been 'ere before, ain't we? And we always manage to get out. You'll see—someone'll mess up and we'll be back at camp, getting' a tongue-lashin' from Deirdre and Djaq before dawn."

Robin glowered at the older man, who looked innocently up and shrugged his shoulders, the chains on his wrists rattling with the movement.

* * *

Back in the sheriff's quarters, Guy was getting his own tongue-lashing from Vasey.

"Why did we not know the women were gone, Gisbourne? We need to know everything…everything!" he shouted.

Guy cleared his throat. "My Lord, I hardly think that matters anymore. Soon, the outlaws will hang. Even if the women were here, what could they possibly do? They are women."

"True, true. Just the same, when this is over, I'm sending you to Germany to find those two. It shouldn't be hard—a Saracen and an Irishwoman; they'll stick out like sore thumbs."

"But My Lord, I am set to marry Marian on the twenty-second of next month!"

"Then you had better find the girls quickly, Gisbourne, hadn't you?"

* * *

At the campsite, Deirdre went to the treasury "room" and began pulling trunks out. Djaq simply stared in consternation.

"Djaq, I need you to go to Madeline's. Ask her for an herb. It's called valerian. Tell her I need the oil of it. Be cautious, it's…"

"I know. But what do you need it for, especially right now?"

"Just get it Djaq, please! We have to hurry."

Djaq nodded and scrambled off to Madeline's as Deirdre turned back and began rooting through the trunks.

* * *

Night fell, but in the windowless world of Nottingham's dungeons, there was nothing to mark the change, save for the change in the guard. The guards on the day shift had been men Allan had been friendly with when he had been "Sir Guy's man", and the outlaws had been left alone. Allan had tried to convince them to let him go, but they had fearfully spoken of their families, of the consequences for letting the outlaws escape. The night shift was another matter; they were two of George's men, men who held no love for Allan A' Dale. The two guards made a game of throwing small stones at the outlaws until Robin and the others began returning the stones, with much better accuracy. Glowering and rubbing their wounds, the men returned to a small table and chairs to pass the time playing knucklebones.

Hours later, after supper had been eaten and cleared, the men were leaning back in their chairs, bored senseless. The sound of feminine laughter had them rising quickly, the front legs of their chairs slamming to the ground in their haste. As they stood, a blonde woman stumbled through the door, giggling and holding her finger to her mouth as she blinked at her darker companion. In her other hand was a flagon of wine.

"Shhhh," the blonde woman noisily admonished the other, who was obviously her servant.

"My Lady, we should not be down here." The servant glanced nervously at the guards.

"Sara, you're no fun. You're as boring as my ancient husband."

The lady turned eyes of guileless blue on the men and they felt their groins tighten in response as she licked her lips, biting the bottom one and grinning at them impishly.

"Now these two strapping men are what my father _should_ have chosen for me, not that old goat I'm stuck with now."

The small blonde woman put a finger in her mouth and scraped it with her teeth before sucking on it as she removed it, letting her eyes travel up and down the soldiers' bodies. The men watched in fascination as she stretched, a yawn escaping her pretty mouth, her breasts thrust forward and clearly straining the material of the dress. The woman put her hands on her back, thrusting her hips forward and revealing the soft swell of her belly.

The brown-haired guard licked his lips. "Beggin' your pardon, Milady, but it's obvious your husband is not _that_ old." He indicated her belly with a nod of his head.

The lady came out of her stretch and nearly fell, her laughter floating up as the man caught her and smelled the wine on her breath. The woman pressed her body against his, her soft breasts had him hardening painfully.

"Who says _this_ is from the old man?" She looked at him knowingly and his eyes widened. Here was a chance at some fun, if they could just get rid of the servant; but now the darker woman was flirting with his partner, so maybe the four of them could go to an empty cell.

The woman leaned in closer, so close he could see her cleavage as he looked down. She opened his shirt and he felt her fingertips graze his chest. He grinned wickedly as she ducked her head and he felt something dampen his chest, thinking it was her tongue before realizing she had spilled some of the wine on him. She looked innocently at him, raising the cup to his lips, then looking over his shoulder to the caged outlaws as the sergeant drank.

"You want some of this too?" she asked boldly before patting the guard's shirt and flouncing away to the cell, leaving the cup in the man's hands.

One of the prisoners—their former boss, Allan A' Dale—pressed against the bars seeming to reach for the lady as she sauntered closer. The guard watched, grinning, as she ran her hand up and down the man's chest, then pulled laughingly away as he leaned toward her. She returned to the guard, who caught her up, spinning her to a chair where he set her on his lap. She continued to drink, offering him the cup as well; his partner and the servant were also drinking and laughing by now, but soon he ignored them as he wrapped his arms around the lady.

* * *

Allan's face went pale, then livid, as he watched Deirdre stumble drunkenly into the chamber, then begin fawning all over the sergeant of the night watch. Even though he knew she must be running a con—especially after he noticed Djaq also flirting with a guard—it still annoyed him to watch his wife being so friendly with another man. As she caught his eye and sashayed over to the cell where he was being held, he reached for her, hoping to dissuade her from continuing. She rubbed his chest, and whispered quickly in his ear before going back to the guard. Allan nearly burst with anger as the man grabbed Deirdre and flipped her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He thought of what he was going to do to the man as he turned away and inconspicuously reached for the key to the shackles Deirdre had nicked.


	18. Chapter 18: Just Women

**A/N: Thanks to lucy (lucynowa on the BBCA boards), who gave me the idea of the men being captured and the women coming to the men's rescue.**

Chapter Eighteen: Just Women

Deirdre felt the bile rise in her throat as the sergeant ground her into his lap; she could feel that he was hard for her and wished the valerian would hurry and do its work. The man leaned forward to kiss her, one hand reaching for her breast, and Deirdre swatted the hand away, giggling to ease the sting as she noticed his shocked expression.

"Now, now, Milady—it's not nice to be a tease. A man might take what you're offerin' even if you change your mind."

Deirdre tore free of the sergeant's grasp with effort, satisfied to see his movements were sluggish; the valerian was beginning to do its work. She bent over the other side of the table, allowing the soldier another glimpse of her cleavage, and feigned interest in the game the men had been playing. A crash behind the sergeant alerted her that the other soldier had succumbed to the valerian oil that had been sloshed onto the men's chests and was in the wine the women had only pretended to drink. The sergeant turned around to look, eyes widening in comprehension too late; he reached for his sword, but Djaq had already grabbed the other man's sword and as Deirdre grabbed his arm to distract him and keep him seated, Djaq slammed the pommel into the base of the man's neck. The women watched as the sergeant fell to the ground, and then went to help the gang, who were unshackled. Allan stood at the door, working on the lock with the key, his face a mask of fury.

To Deirdre's surprise, once he had the door open, he turned his anger on the guard, striding over to relieve the man of his sword; Deirdre grabbed his arm as Allan raised the sword overhead to strike a killing blow.

"Allan!"

Allan barely felt the tug on his arm, but before he could swing, Robin and Little John were also there, keeping him from killing the guard.

"Allan." Deirdre spoke more softly now, putting herself in front of him so that he could see her face. "It's over. You're free. For now. But we need to leave. Now. Before they wake up. Come on, Mo Croi. Take me home."

The moment stretched as the gang looked nervously at the couple, and then Deirdre's words seemed to sink in and Allan grabbed her by the arm, propelling her toward the door.

* * *

In her room, Marian paced restlessly, watching the sun begin to set. Guy had come by earlier, claiming to have caught Robin and the gang. When she had asked about Deirdre, Guy had said the gang had sent the women away. Marian knew it to be a lie, but kept her mouth shut. She knew Robin had come to try and rescue her, but there was nothing for it—she would have to rescue herself, and now, Robin too. The window was far too narrow to allow her to escape that way, and the door was too well guarded. Marian had tried to get by the guards when her supper had been brought, and had even managed to take out the two at the door, but the others in the hall had proved too much, and they had shoved her rudely back into the room, slamming the door as she landed on her butt. She had to get out; if she could get to Deirdre and Djaq, they could help her rescue the men. Marian went to bank the fire for the night and to light the candles as darkness settled in. Leaning against the fireplace, it came to her—it was dangerous, and might not even work, but she had to try it.

* * *

The gang had made their way unmolested out of the sleeping castle and into the bailey after re-acquiring their own weapons, but the gates were shut and well-guarded. They would have to go up to go out—at night, the walls were guarded by a skeleton crew. The first guard they came across crumbled silently to the ground with help from Little John's staff; the second man proved not so easy and a brief sword fight ensued. Robin, in the lead, crossed swords as the guard called out for them to halt. The wall was narrow and only one man could fight at a time. The gang watched anxiously, guarding their rear, as the fight took longer than it should have and began to attract attention. If the fight did not end soon, Allan would be in sword fights of his own as more guards arrived; already the gang could hear them rousing.

Little John watched in horror as a dark shape appeared behind the guard Robin was fighting—if they were surrounded, they would be caught again for sure. The figure stepped forward, landing a blow to the soldier's kidneys which brought him to his knees, then wrapping a garrote of some sort around the man's throat. In moments, the man was unconscious, but the bailey was coming alive. The figure stepped out of the shadows, hissing at Robin.

"Hurry, help me with this!" Marian held out the sheets she had used to strangle the guard and Robin grabbed the end, tying it around the closest crenellation; Marian and the sheet were both covered with soot, but there would be time for explanations later. Robin urged Little John to step up on the merlon first; he grabbed the make-shift rope and began lowering himself quickly. Once Little John's feet hit the ground, Robin sent Much down, so that the two men could guard the descent of the women from the bottom, while he and Allan and Will guarded from the top. Once the women were all safely on the ground, first Will and then Allan went over. As Robin was climbing over, guards swarmed the rampart. Robin lowered himself quickly, the rope sliding between his hands, burning the palms; he jumped the last ten feet before joining the gang in their headlong flight for the safety of the trees.

* * *

The gang ran until they were back inside the camp, where they quickly closed the camouflaged door. Robin swept Marian up into his arms in complete and utter relief.

"How did you get out of that room?" he asked unbelievingly. "And how did you get so dirty?"

Marian swiped at the soot that covered her from head to toe. "I went out the chimney," she replied simply.

Deirdre and Allan grinned impishly at each other over the simplicity of the idea.

"So my plan to rescue you was _completely_ unnecessary?" Robin asked, holding her close.

Marian smirked up at him. "I was actually coming to rescue _you_ when I saw all of you on the battlements."

"Does this mean you're one of us now? No more nonsense about Kirklees or marrying Guy?"

Marian's lips turned up and she nodded at him as his lips lowered to meet hers.

Allan smiled and steered Deirdre toward their bower; he hadn't taken his hands off of her since they had escaped the dungeon, except when she had gone over the wall. Once they were inside, his smile abruptly disappeared; he sat on the bed, pulling her to him and holding her tight as he nuzzled her neck. Suddenly realizing that his actions mirrored those of the sergeant, he jumped up, nearly spilling Deirdre to the floor. Quickly, he undressed her, tossing the blue silk dress and the shift onto the floor. Allan sat her on the bed and bent to unlace her boots, which he also threw aside; he reached up for the combs in her hair and shook out the golden mass, pulling some of it over her shoulder to twirl between his fingers before pushing her gently back to lie on the bed. He stood and undressed himself, far more quickly and violently than he had undressed her.

Deirdre wanted to say something, but the intensity in his eyes made her shut her mouth on a sarcastic comment. Allan lay beside her, pulling her to him as he kissed her deeply, tweaking her nipple with his fingers before moving his hand down to stroke her flank, delving deeply between her folds to make her as ready for him as he was for her. He rolled Deirdre onto her back and moved to kiss her face, her neck, her shoulders; he worked his way down to suckle each nipple, then feathered her belly gently with his lips. Allan's mouth traveled lower still, all the way down one leg, then back up the next, taking possession of the juncture where her thigh met her torso, kissing and suckling one side before moving on to the other.

Deirdre felt like she would go mad from the pleasure of it and then he was laving her slit with his tongue, lapping at her like a cat lapping milk. Allan pulled her nub into his mouth and suckled hard, and Deirdre nearly fainted with the effort to not cry out. She dug her fingers into his shoulders at his continued assault, biting her lip and whimpering when his tongue delved into her.

Allan wanted to kiss and lick her everywhere, marking her body as _his_. Back in the cell, he had wanted to leap through the bars to pull Deirdre out of the sergeant's grasp. He had wanted to scream at the man to take his hands off of _his_ wife, but had known that would blow the con and endanger both Deirdre and Djaq. The run for the ramparts, then down and over, and back to camp had still not assuaged his need for violence.

Standing at the end of the bed, he yanked Deirdre's body toward him, pulling her hips up and wrapping her legs around his body. All of his pent-up emotion was coming out; Allan felt like he was still imprisoned, but in his own body, watching himself handle Deirdre far more roughly than he would normally. His cock strained against her nether lips for just a moment before he pushed inside of her, holding for a moment as her body adjusted to his girth. His fingers dug painfully into her hips, and his eyes were on fire as he plunged into her.

Deirdre couldn't help it—she cried out. Allan was not huge, but he was not small either, and it always took a moment for her body to adjust to the size of him filling her up; his sudden thrust had caught her off balance. He had only ever entered her so quickly twice before—the other night at the cave, when she had been so desperate to feel him filling her up that she had welcomed the pain, and the night Guy had nearly raped her at Locksley. Allan seemed not to notice as he continued driving into her, forcing her to open to him, then pulling out quickly to plunge just as hard and fast back into her. Within a couple of thrusts, her body had adjusted, and Allan's assault was easier to take. He continued to thrust deeply into her, stroking so fast she could barely keep up, but Allan didn't seem to notice as he buried himself somehow deeper, his fingers biting into the flesh of her hips, his head thrown back as he cried out, filling her with his seed.

He stayed buried inside of her for long moments as the sweat began to dry on his body and his breathing softened. He glanced up at her suddenly, his eyes wide as he pulled out of her and looked at her face.

"Jazus, Luv, are ye all right?" His hands roamed her body, lingering over the mound of the baby. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"I'm fine." Deirdre had known what Allan needed and given it gladly; she had no desire for him to feel bad about it.

"It's just, that guard—'e 'ad 'is 'ands all over you and I wanted to kill 'im, Deirdre. I'm so sorry…"

"Allan, I'm fine." Her eyes were dark blue and liquid, filled with her love for him, as she tried in every way she could to show him that all was well.

"I wanted to kill 'im and when I couldn't…I lost control. I'm sorry, Luv."

"Allan, it's all right. I'm fine. The baby's fine. And now you're fine. We're all safe now. C'mon, let's go to sleep."

Deirdre sat up and pulled Allan to lay beside her, cradling his head against her breast and murmuring endearments to him. She felt the warm dampness of his tears on her chest before he fell into an exhausted sleep.


	19. Chapter 19: Exposed

Chapter Nineteen: Exposed

Allan awoke in the morning to find himself alone in the bed. He quickly dressed, then went out to get breakfast, hoping to find Deirdre sitting by the fire already eating. Looking around though, he saw that she was not in the camp. Will blushed and dropped his eyes as Allan sat down next to him and tore hungrily into some bread, washing it down with mead.

"Where's Deirdre?" he asked of no one in particular.

Robin looked up from where he was rubbing fat into some arrows, holding them over the fire to heat them. The oil would keep the arrows from warping in the damp of Sherwood Forest, the heat of the fire helping the oil to soak in. He smirked before responding.

"She said she was going to wash up, that she felt dirty from last night. I assume she meant the guard."

Robin winked as Allan grinned and reddened, ducking his head. Feeling his groin tighten yet again at the thought of Deirdre naked and wet, he put down the bread and got up, stretching carefully.

"I could do with a walk this mornin'. I'll be back," Allan proclaimed, striding from the camp. He heard the laughter of his friends behind him, but he didn't care.

* * *

Marian and Djaq had been out walking, getting to know one another better as they gathered herbs. After a while, they were hot and dirty from the work and decided to go wash up at the stream before returning to camp. Undressing by some large rocks that stood on the edge of and led into the stream, the women hailed Deirdre, who was standing in water up to her chest, washing as well. In the water, Deirdre turned away while Marian turned on shore, allowing Djaq her privacy to enter the water; Marian was next to enter the stream as Djaq and Deirdre kept their backs turned. Once the women were all in the cooling water, they talked and laughed a bit, enjoying the escape from the hot weather. Djaq and Marian went over by the rocks to grab their clothes in order to wash them while they were there. Deirdre's clothing already lay drying on the granite slab that hung over the stream, and so she lay back to drift in the slight current.

* * *

Allan emerged from the path that led to the stream and stopped short, grinning. Deirdre lay on her back in the water; the only things poking above the surface were her face, her toes, her belly, and her nipples, which were hard from the cold water. Quickly, he shucked off his clothes and ran for the water, diving in once he had cleared the shallows.

He surfaced, laughing and grabbing at Deirdre as she squealed in surprise; it was the other squeals that had him pausing and turning carefully to look into the shocked eyes of Djaq and Marian. The two women had their arms crossed over their chests and were ducking down below the surface until only their heads and necks remained above. Allan stood in water that was lapping his hips and quickly covered what was poking out of the water. Behind him, Deirdre began to giggle as she watched the back of his neck turn red. He turned to look back at her.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, then began to laugh himself as her lips continued to twitch.

"Deirdre!" Marian hissed in annoyance. The Irishwoman truly had a warped sense of humor if she thought this was funny.

"Allan A' Dale! Go away!" Djaq called in frustration. Must every member of the gang see her washing at some point? Who was next? Robin?

Allan moved carefully into deeper water before uncovering himself and spreading his arms wide, his smile splitting his face.

"C'mon ladies, what's the harm in a little good, clean fun, eh?" he joked. Deirdre guffawed even louder at the look of horror on her friends' faces. "I just wanted to help my wife…wash her back," he declared innocently.

"If you're not leaving, we are! Turn around, Allan!" Marian ordered, her cheeks reddening even further at Allan's insinuation.

Allan crossed his arms over his chest, waggling his eyebrows at Djaq and Marian suggestively, refusing to turn around until Deirdre leaned up and whispered in his ear. He turned quickly at her reminder that the sooner he cooperated, the sooner they would be alone.

Djaq and Marian splashed rapidly out of the water, less concerned with privacy in front of each other than they had been before. They dressed and retreated to the safety of the camp, but first Marian reached down and picked up a rock, lobbing it toward Allan's hip. He yelped and jumped as the rock struck his rump, barely slowing when it hit the water; he could hear laughter as the two women ran through the forest.

"Now, where was I?" Allan asked, twisting back to encircle his wife's waist.

* * *

Djaq and Marian strolled back into camp, wet and laughing, and sat by the fire to dry.

"Where've you two been?" demanded Robin his gaze sliding over the lush curves Marian's clinging wet shirt was revealing.

Will's attention was also riveted to Djaq's barely concealed body; when his gaze traveled high enough to reach her eyes, he flushed in embarrassment and ducked his head at the amused look she was shooting him. Little John and Much were away on patrol, watching for Guy and his men, who were sure to come looking for Marian.

"We were hot and went for a swim," Marian answered.

Will's head shot up like it was on a pulled string. "Did you see Deirdre?" he asked, as nonchalantly as he could.

"We did," replied Djaq.

"And Allan?" Robin's voice was strained.

"More than we wanted to," Djaq responded, and both women began to giggle.

Robin and Will jumped up, knocking over the upright logs they had been sitting on. "What?" they cried in unison.

When the women could stop laughing at the murderous look in the men's eyes, Djaq explained.

"He did not know we were there, and we were behind some rocks so we did not see him until we heard the splash as he dove into the water."

Marian continued the explanation. "By the time he surfaced, we had time to cover ourselves."

"But you said you saw more of _him_ than you wanted to. What did you see, exactly?" Robin demanded.

"He, um," Marian bit her lip to keep from laughing more. "He wasn't _entirely_ covered by the water. Not at first."

At Robin's murderous look, she added, "But he moved to deeper water as soon as he realized.'

Marian and Djaq shared a look, rolling their eyes at their men's serious expressions. Marian rose and sauntered over to Robin, taking his hand and rising up to kiss his lips.

"You know, for someone who's always telling me not to be such a spoil sport, you are taking this far too seriously. It was an accident, for goodness' sake. No man could ever take me away from you, Robin of Locksley; you should know that by now," she purred, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him close for a deep kiss.

Robin's body relaxed as he kissed Marian; she was right—it had been an accident. Besides, Allan was completely devoted to Deirdre. He circled his arms around Marian's slight waist and crushed her body to his, letting her feel his desire for her. He released her lips and nuzzled her neck.

"Do you know your problem, Darlin'?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "You've been too long unmarried. Marry me, Marian. Now. Before the king returns, before the sheriff is defeated."

Marian considered for a moment—it was tempting. She wanted to marry Robin—had wanted to since they were children—and if she was Robin's wife, she would never have to worry about being a hostage bride again. On the other hand, what kind of life could they have as a married couple, outlawed in Sherwood? She saw the disappointment in his eyes as she hesitated.

"Give me time, Robin. I want to marry you, but I need time to adjust to this new life I'll be leading now. I snuck away from the castle, from Gisbourne, for you. He'll be after me, no doubt."

"And that's why you should marry me now, before anything bad happens," Robin pleaded.

"One week, Robin. Give me one week and I'll give you your answer." Marian leaned up to kiss him again, trying to erase the look of disappointment on his face. Behind them, Will sat next to Djaq by the fire, holding her close and helping her to dry off.

* * *

Back at the stream, Allan pulled Deirdre through the water until they were behind the rocks. There, he dragged her into a natural alcove, with rocks rising up in front of them and on both sides. He found one that was at a level with the water, but dipping slightly into it; the table-like top was worn smooth by the waves created by the nearby waterfall. With barely any effort at all, he spun Deirdre around so her back was to the rocks and lifted her up onto the table rock. She shivered as the air hit her body, but the sun soon warmed her.

Allan grinned at the uncertainty on her face; it wasn't like Deirdre to be off-balance, but it did her good every once in a while to have someone put her in an uncomfortable position. His smile widened as he thought that soon she wouldn't care that she was naked on top of a rock by a stream.

Deirdre watched Allan warily as he grinned at her and nudged her legs apart, pulling her to the edge of the rock so that her bottom barely rested on it. He pulled her head closer for a deep kiss that sent a thrill through her body, then released her mouth to nibble his way down to her breasts. His left arm reached around behind her and held her by the small of her back, his fingers splayed across her skin, while his right hand traced patterns down her side and her leg before returning to push gently on her abdomen, throwing her slightly off balance. His left hand lowered her body until her elbows caught her fall. Again, he grinned wickedly at her before taking his kisses lower.

Deirdre shivered in anticipation as she watched his head approach the juncture of her legs, but he kissed and suckled on her inner thighs instead. She thought she would go mad with impatience as he continued to give all his attention to her legs.

Allan knew he was driving her completely insane, but he was having fun. Every time he moved from one creamy thigh to the other, he passed his mouth and nose close to her sex. She smelled clean and sweet and he wanted to drive into her over and over, but she deserved better after the way he had done her last time. This time, he would make love to her, cherish her. He allowed the fingers that had been teasing her, tickling her leg and belly, to drift closer to her core, brushing lightly against her nub. Allan smiled in satisfaction at Deirdre's sharply indrawn breath. He teased her for another minute, his mouth still working on her thighs, before slipping a finger into her.

Deirdre nearly came up off the rock as Allan slowly pushed his finger into her. Just as slowly as he had pushed it into her, he removed the finger one knuckle at a time, then gently inserted it again, stroking her very leisurely for what seemed an eternity. Deirdre was so focused on Allan's finger moving in and out of her that she nearly screamed, jumping again, when he began sucking at her nub at the same time, carefully picking up the pace with his finger. She felt herself going over the edge, her orgasm claiming her, body and mind.

Allan felt Deirdre tighten around his finger and she cried out, finding her release. Once she was done, but before she had recovered, he quickly removed his finger and began lapping at her with his tongue, licking up her sweetness as it trickled out before burying his face in her, driving his tongue deep. She tasted sweet, a combination of honey and the water that kept making its way into her channel as she sank toward the stream. Deirdre moaned and writhed on the rock, letting her back sink down so that she could reach for Allan. He felt her hands in his hair, urging him on and before long, he was rewarded with another orgasm from his wife.

Allan moved quickly, wanting to enter her before she had finished with her orgasm. He straightened up from his crouch and pushed himself gradually into her, burying himself inch by inch, opening her body to him. He sighed in pleasure when he was fully inside her. Deirdre looked up at him and smiled and he couldn't help but smile back at the happiness on her face. He felt her body squeeze him and he began to move, stroking in and out of her, his motions completely unhurried.

Deirdre opened her eyes, watching the bliss on Allan's face as he pushed himself into her. The look of complete contentment on his face when he was finally all the way inside of her made Deirdre smile, proud that her body could make him so happy. Her breathing became more rapid at the feel of him pushing into her. She urged him to go faster, crying out his name as he responded, picking up the pace. Waves lapped at them both now from the rapid movements of his hips, the water cool until it entered her hot, slick channel, where it warmed immediately before being expelled by Allan re-entering her body. The waves churned to bubbles where their bodies met from the force of their exertions.

Deirdre felt it building inside of her, the sweet pressure that meant she was going over yet again. She tightened around Allan and he responded, each thrust now hard and fast as her body squeezed him, urging him on. Deirdre cried out and clamped down hard on Allan, his own cries mingling with hers as he filled her body, finally allowing himself his own release.

They stayed locked together, panting as they tried to regain their breath. Allan looked down at the fine sheen of sweat on Deirdre's body; her eyes were closed in bliss. He reached down and cupped some of the cool water in his right hand, while his left rubbed her belly and her abdomen As he slowly poured the water over her body, she jumped and yelped, clamping down hard on him as her eyes popped open.

"Allan! What do you think you're doing?" she yelled at him.

Allan grinned and shrugged, completely unapologetic.

"You looked like you were hot. I was trying to cool you down."

Deirdre raised a warning eyebrow at him. "Funny, you look hot too!" she proclaimed, bringing her feet quickly up from behind him and pushing against his belly. The force of the push not only pulled him from her body, but dumped him unceremoniously into the water. He soon re-surfaced, laughing and splashing the water from his hair. Deirdre squealed and jumped off the rock, trying to out-swim her husband as he shot her a look that promised revenge.

**A/N: There was too much drama, so I thought it was time to bring back our light-hearted, teasing Allan. Hope you enjoyed!**


	20. Chapter 20: Lepers

Chapter Twenty: Lepers

Sir Guy of Gisbourne paced the halls of Nottingham castle, waiting to escort the latest consignment of taxes to London, where Prince John was setting up winter quarters. It had been a month now since Marian's escape, a month of enduring the snickers of his men and the snide comments of the sheriff. He had entertained the notion of chasing after Marian for no longer than a heartbeat; he would not make a fool of himself over her anymore.

The guards' descriptions had also led him to believe that A Dale and Hood had been lying about the whereabouts of Deirdre and the little Saracen woman. The only part that gave him pause was the guard saying the Lady had been with child. It had been bad enough knowing that she was married to A Dale, but to think of her bearing that man's child, when it should have been his... The thought that she must be lying with him was far different from the proof of it. He hated to admit that it cut him deep, that Allan was living _his_ life--_except the whole outlawed thing_, he smiled to himself at that thought.

No mind, the change of scenery, particularly the lack of headstrong women, would do him good, and if outlaws attacked…he only hoped it would be Robin Hood so he could take out some of his frustration on the former lord of Locksley. In the meantime, the only women he wanted were ones he could use to assuage his body's needs and then send away. No more of love—he should have remembered that lesson, taught by the back of his father's hand all those years ago, that love was weakness, compassion a limp sword. From now on he would be forged of steel, a fortress with his gates shut against love. He would marry one day, a young, malleable woman of means; someone who would further his position and be a docile brood-mare providing him with sons. Then, no one would laugh at him anymore; at least, no one who cared to keep their tongue.

* * *

In Sherwood Forest, the women were preparing for the upcoming nuptials; Marian had finally agreed to marry Robin, much to everyone's relief, and Robin's mood had shown a vast improvement. The date had been set for the day before Marian would have had to marry Guy—September twenty-first. The hardest part had been finding a priest; luckily the abbey at Kirklees had provided the answer in the form of young, corpulent Friar Tuck. Tuck was the youngest son of a minor lord, whose father had—to his demise—been a staunch supporter of King Richard. While Tuck had not been forced to pay for his father's "sins" due to his status within the Church, he was not a friend to Prince John, and was only too happy to marry Robin Hood to his childhood sweetheart. He had escaped the restrictions of the abbey by claiming he was going on a small pilgrimage—not a complete lie, as he would do so after joining Robin and Marian. He walked along with the outlaws, completely unaware of their destination.

Marian walked ahead of the group with Djaq and Deirdre. It had been Deirdre's idea that they all go to Madeline's and that the wedding be held there so that Marian could at least be prepared for her wedding night. It had not been so easy to convince Allan to bring up the idea to Robin, although in the end, Allan had nearly begged to talk to Robin.

"_Allan, can we talk?"_ _Deirdre had accosted her husband as they had walked along, gathering firewood for the camp._

_Allan had looked at her askance. Any time a woman said to a man, "can we talk?", there was usually trouble ahead for the man. He swallowed nervously and tried not to meet her eyes as he responded, "Yeah, sure."_

_Deirdre was not making it easy on him though, as she had stopped to rest on a large rock, placing her load on the ground beside her and stretching her back, closing her eyes for a moment as she did so._

_Allan's eyes were riveted to her chest; it didn't matter how many times he had seen, touched, licked, and suckled on her breasts—when she moved like that and she looked ready to burst the cloth of her dress, he wanted to see them all over again. Deirdre cracked an eyelid._

Good, I have his attention,_ she thought._

"_Allan, I was thinking we should have Robin and Marian's wedding at Madeline's."_

_Allan closed his eyes for a second and shook his head to clear it, uncertain he had heard her right._

"_I'm sorry. What did you say?"  
"Robin and Marian. They should get married at Madeline's."_

"_Not this again! I thought I told you, Deirdre, that Robin wants to be married at the camp; the less travel, the better with our group gettin' so big."_

"_I know, but we can keep out of sight. The way to Madeline's is mostly deer tracks."_

"_I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but why can't they just get married here, at camp? Why does it have to be at Madeline's?"_

_Deirdre levered herself off the rock and sashayed over to Allan, playing idly with a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger as she chewed her lower lip. Allan knew he was in trouble now; he raised his hands between them in self-defense._

"_I dunno what you're up to, Deirdre, but no. Just no."_

_Deirdre began rubbing his chest, pouting at him. "I'm just thinking of _them_. Remember how little I knew of what went on between men and women? Marian could use Madeline's guidance," she purred at him, reaching up on tip-toe to nibble one of his ears. _

_Allan had pulled his head back, looking down at her sideways as she had spoken._

"_That's none o' our business, Luv."_

"_Don't you want their first night to be special?" she cooed as her hand traveled lower. Allan's breath hitched as she began rubbing him through the material of his pants._

"_I really don't want to think about their first night, if you don't mind."_

_Deirdre began nibbling his neck, his chest, his belly, and thinking in general became difficult. His cock twitched in anticipation as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him, reaching in to free him of the confines of his pants._

"_Just think of all the interesting things Madeline taught me," she whispered, her warm breath feathering over him, causing him to harden even more._

"_I.. uh…I taught you some things too," he managed to hiss as Deirdre's tongue darted out, licking up a drop of pre-come that had sprung out as he thought of all his wife's "lessons."_

"_Mmmm, you certainly did. But how much more fun would those lesson have been if I'd talked to Madeline first, eh?" she inquired._

_Allan had no time to answer before her mouth closed around him, drawing him deep, sucking on him as her tongue wreaked havoc on his sensitive nerve endings. Allan groaned deep in his throat as Deirdre pulled off of him until only the head of his cock remained in her mouth. Her tongue moved over the sensitive tip; she kept her hand on him as she moved her mouth off of him so that she could lick him. She wrapped her mouth back around him and grabbed his hand, placing it on the back of her head, giving him permission to do what she knew he wanted to do—hold her head there while he stroked in and out of her mouth. She reached both hands around to hold his buttocks, urging him on even more. _

_Allan stroked deeply into Deirdre's mouth, keeping it slow so that he wouldn't choke her, but still pushing all the way down her throat as she relaxed her muscles and opened to him. While he pulled out, she continued to suck on him forcefully, as though she would keep him in her mouth. He pushed deep into her again and again as she suckled him, her mouth and tongue driving him mad, each of his thrusts a little harder and faster than the one before. He was desperate to lose control, to spend his seed down her throat, to feel her throat contract around him as she swallowed it. His other hand reached for her head, a prelude, just as her hands reached for his, signaling he had to let her go now._

_Allan watched in disappointment as Deirdre drew her mouth off of him, wiping her lips with the back of one hand._

"_So, Madeline's? You'll talk to Robin?" she croaked out, moving back to begin licking him again._

_Allan's breath was ragged. "What?" was all he managed as she began stroking his balls and licking his tip again. _

_She looked up at him guilelessly as her tongue flicked out and she closed her eyes, seeming to savor the taste of him._

"_Mmmm, you taste so good, Mo Croi." She placed her mouth back around him, moaning the whole time; the vibrations of her mouth felt incredible. He knew he would burst if he didn't come soon. He placed his hands on her head again, but she firmly removed them, pulling off of him to lick his length again._

"_Please, Mo Croi, for me." Deirdre flicked her tongue into the groove on his tip, nearly sending him out of his skin. "Talk to Robin." She dragged her tongue from his tip to his balls along the underside of his cock. "Convince him." She dragged her tongue back up to the tip._

_Allan knew he was being played and didn't care. "I will," he whispered fervently; Deirdre took his hands and placed them on the back of her head again, opening her throat to him as he pushed deeply into her. She grabbed his buttocks, holding on as he thrust harder and faster before he cried out, nearly choking her as he filled her throat._

So now they were on their way to Madeline's hut. The women would spend the night inside, preparing the bride, while the men slept outside. Allan was trying to listen to the conversation between Robin and Tuck, but the swaying of his wife's hips as she walked ahead of them with Marian and Djaq had him distracted. Robin didn't seem to be having the same problem with Marian; Allan wondered if there was something wrong with him; they had been married for six months now and he still couldn't seem to get enough of her. He shook his head and deliberately tore his gaze away to look into the bemused face of Robin.

"Just you wait, Robin. You'll be in the same pickle before long." Allan grinned and clapped Robin on the shoulder as they entered the little clearing.

Robin chuckled. "I hope not. Half our gang gone in a fog…won't be good for business."

"Well, we've still got Little John, Much, Djaq , and Wi…we've got Little John and Much," he amended, noting the puppy eyes being exchanged between Will and Djaq.

"What are you complainin' about now, Allan A' Dale?" Madeline demanded as she extricated herself from Deirdre's embrace, arms outstretched to give Allan a hug as well.

Allan hugged the old woman he had once feared, the woman who had saved his wife and child.

"We was just sayin' as half the gang is down with a case of lovesickness," he grinned at her. Somehow he could never prevaricate with the healer—he had come to respect her too much in the past months, as Deirdre had visited often to ensure the pregnancy progressed well.

Madeline beamed at her favorite patient; the Irish girl had matured a lot over the past months and Madeline was as proud of Deirdre as if she was her own daughter.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. Within a couple of months, your sweet little wife won't be able to stand the sight of you."

Allan gaped at Madeline in mock horror, clutching his chest.

"How could you tell such a terrible lie, Mother?"

"Don't think that because you show me respect, you can wiggle out of _that_ truth, young man! There's not a woman alive who can stand the sight of her husband when her time nears, and during the birth, she may even shed aspersions on your parentage."

Allan grinned cheekily, patting the pocket on his over-shirt. "I've got that woman firmly in m'pocket. No worries."

Madeline cocked an eyebrow at Allan, smiling sardonically. "Of course you do, son. Of course you do. Come now, let's get the lot of you settled."

* * *

Guy of Gisbourne sat straight and tall in his saddle. The cool autumn breeze blew refreshingly through his hair; as he crossed the River Trent, he felt better than he had since he had thought himself in love with Deirdre O'Niall. He felt lighter. He was already scheming for a way to remain in London for the winter. The longer he stayed away from Nottingham, the better; at least the sheriff's acerbic tongue could not touch him in London. His guards had also become quieter and more respectful since he had removed the tongue of the last man who had snickered at him. Things were definitely looking up.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, y'all, but I like the original Tuck way better than the one in S3; in fact, I doubt that you will see any of the S3 characters in my story. The only ones I don't totally despise are PJ & Isabella.**


	21. Chapter 21: The Talk

Chapter Twenty-one: The Talk

Tuck had calmed down considerably since he had first learned that they would be staying at "the witch's" home. He now sat by the fire with the others, swapping tales as the sunlight faded. He had talked with Madeline and found her to be intelligent, knowledgeable in herblore and medicine, and quite Christian, despite hanging on to some of her Pagan beliefs. Now, in the twilight, she clapped her hands and stood up, announcing that dinner was over.

"Time for the ladies to retire,' Madeline declared.

Djaq followed the healer like a fawn following its doe, Marian kissed Robin good-night and moved toward the hut as well, but—as usual—Deirdre was another story. Allan had stood to help her rise and now they were locked in an embrace, their kisses long and languorous. Madeline moved to stand next to them and cleared her throat, but got no reaction. She pushed a hand up between their joined lips to break them apart; as their lips parted, they each turned to glare at her for a moment.

"D'you mind?" Allan asked belligerently, "I'm tryin' to say good night to my wife."

"At that rate, you'll be sayin' good mornin' instead. Come on, then."

Allan reached desperately for Deirdre as Madeline began to haul her away; he pulled his wife close one more time.

"Sleep sweet, Luv," he whispered in her ear, ensuring that her dreams would be anything _but_ sweet.

"Good night, Mo Croi," Deirdre whispered back, kissing his cheek.

Madeline rolled her eyes.

"It's not like she's goin' on an epic journey; she'll be in my hut, just over there for _one_ night. I don't know what you two are goin' to do when the baby comes and you can't lie together for at least one moon."

"What?" Allan and Deirdre chimed in horrified unison.

Madeline chuckled evilly as she dragged a stunned Deirdre away, refusing to answer the question.

* * *

Inside Madeline's home, Deirdre was put to work stoking the fire, while Madeline dragged out the dress the women had been coming to work on for the last week. Djaq had been used to sewing wounds on the battle field, not sewing cloth, but had found it quite easy to make the change and her needle was swift, the stitches small and precise. Marian was busy with finishing a new shirt and pants for Robin, having taken the measurement of the clothes a week earlier when she and Deirdre had volunteered to wash everyone's clothes. Robin had been suspicious until the women had explained that the gamey smell of the men and their clothing was affecting Deirdre's super-sensitive nose, as many strong smells had done since she had become pregnant. Deirdre, whose stitching was not as fine as Djaq's, was finishing Marian's shift for under her wedding dress. Madeline helped with whatever needed doing and passed the mead jug around; before long, the women had begun a second jug and the talking turned toward Marian's wedding night.

"So, are you ready for your first night with Robin?" Deirdre asked bluntly.

Marian stabbed her finger, biting her tongue on a curse before glaring at her friend.

"Must you do that?"

"What?"

"Be so…forthright," Marian answered hotly.

Deirdre's face was all innocence. "Yes."

The silence stretched for a moment before Deirdre insisted on an answer. "Well? Are you ready?"

Marian sighed impatiently and put down her sewing for a moment.

"If you mean, do I know about what goes on between men and women, then yes, I am ready."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I mean, are you sure you know what goes on between men and women?"

"Yes." Marian was becoming more and more indignant as Deirdre refused to let up.

Deirdre bent back over her sewing, seeming to be satisfied with the answer, and Marian also resumed sewing.

"It's just that…I thought I knew, but I was wrong," Deirdre spoke into the silence that had only been broken by the crackling of the fire until she had added her voice to it. Before anyone could respond, she added, "I knew about stallions and mares. Even though I had insisted that Allan and I get married that night, I was terrified when we got back to the room. I worried that Allan was as big as a stallion and that I would be expected to take _that_ into me." Deirdre's usual bluntness was compounded by the mead she had drunk, and Madeline raised an eyebrow, thinking it was time the young mother-to-be switched to tea.

Marian's eyes were as big as saucers and she raised a delicate hand to her mouth in horror and embarrassment.

Madeline jumped in before the young bride lost her nerve and called the wedding off.

"Now, now, Lass, there's nothing to worry about."

Deirdre hiccupped. "Of course there's nothing to worry about. Allan was nowhere near as big as a stallion." Deirdre paused a moment before adding, "And I'm sure Robin isn't either."

* * *

Standing just outside the door, Robin snickered at Deirdre's comment on Allan's size as the other man frowned.

"That's what you get for listening at doors, Allan," the young lord commented smugly.

Robin's laughter was cut short by Deirdre's speculations on his own manhood. Allan smirked at him.

"That's what you get for listening at doors, Robin," Allan returned self-righteously, chuckling as well until Robin popped him in the arm.

"Yeah, well, your wife's thinking about my jewels," Robin teased.

Allan looked askance at his friend. "She don't think much of 'em, though from the sounds of it."

Allan ducked another blow from Robin, aimed toward his head.

"C'mon, let's go back to the others," Robin grinned, nodding his head back toward the fire.

Allan smiled and reluctantly followed Robin back. He knew he was a sorry man, but he wanted his wife to sleep by his side.

* * *

Inside, Marian laughed in relief and embarrassment.

"I'm glad to hear that, although I got a pretty good idea last month at the stream," she added, cheeks flushed.

Deirdre laughed gaily. "You do know men's…fortunes…rise and fall with the weather. Cold is…unflattering…to them," she responded, tongue in cheek.

Djaq also flushed and ducked her head, wondering why she couldn't just stay outside with the men.

Deirdre smiled, nibbling her lower lip and raising her eyebrows at Marian, her gaze sliding toward Djaq. Marian's eyes widened again and she shook her head, trying to dissuade Deirdre.

"Come on, Djaq. Tell us about Will."

"What do you mean?" Djaq demanded.

"I mean, tell us about Will. Have you two, you know?" Deirdre paused, watching Djaq squirm uncomfortably, before completing her question. "Set a date?"

Djaq glared at the pregnant woman as Deirdre chuckled. "What did you think I was asking?"

"Will has not asked me to marry him, if that is what you are asking."

"Of course that's what I'm asking." Deirdre's wicked grin hinted otherwise.

"You know Will is very quiet, very shy," Djaq began.

"And very steady. There's nothing wrong with that," Marian finished for her, defending the young man against Deirdre's drunken, bawdy tongue.

"Of course not. He's quite nice." Deirdre's words, while in agreement, made "nice" seem like a bad thing.

"Deirdre!" Madeline spoke sharply and Deirdre looked to the older woman quickly, suddenly aware that she may have been rude.

"I'm sorry, Djaq. 'Nice' would bore me to tears, but I guess that's why God made us all different. I really do like Will. I just couldn't imagine being his wife, is all. But he is a good boy." Deirdre's "apology" earned her another glare from the three women. "What?" she asked innocently, looking at their faces.

The others dissolved into laughter as Deirdre hiccupped again; they realized that alcohol was probably a bad thing when mixed in with Deirdre's forthright nature, and that she really didn't mean anything by it.

"What?" she asked again, her face flaming as the others continued to laugh. She frowned and shrugged before going back to work on Marian's shift.

* * *

Outside, the men also sat around the fire, drinking and talking.

"So, it's your turn tomorrow, Mate," Allan smirked.

"Finally," Much added, the relief in his voice palpable.

Robin smiled and ducked his head. He had not been this happy since Marian had said "yes" with no restrictions.

"Are you ready to have your will taken away from you by a woman?" Allan asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Will jumped in defensively.

"Nothin'. It's just that Marian's not exactly some shy flower, is she? She'll have Robin under 'er thumb in no time."

"Like Deirdre does with you?"  
"Hey, now, just 'ang on. Deirdre does _not_ have me under 'er thumb." Now it was Allan who was on the defensive.

Little John snorted and turned away, Much was carefully studying the stars, Tuck's face was devoid of expression, while Will and Robin met Allan's gaze straight on, unblinking.

Allan grinned. "All right, I let 'er think she's got a bit o' control now and again…"

"Let?" Little John picked up on the word immediately. "Deirdre's more like a wild dog. If you're lucky, she'll let _you _think you have control, but don't take your eyes off 'er or she'll be bitin' your hand."

"Are you callin' my wife a dog, John?"

"Not in looks, you daft idjit, just in actions."

"How could you say that?"

"All right, let's look at her history. She pretends to be all tame at the castle, meanwhile she's robbin' the sheriff blind. Not a bad thing, mind, just not very lady-like. She tells Robin she'll stay at camp while we go rescue you and then she sneaks in and slices the torture's head near clean of 'is body. She tells _you_ she'll stay at camp, then nearly gets herself killed followin' us on the raid. She took off for Scarborough without so much as a 'by you leave'…"

Allan held up his hands, grinning widely now. "All right, all right. I can see where she may appear a bit…untamed. Mind, wild can be fun, too." He waggled his eyebrows and while Robin and Little John chuckled, Will and Much blushed, and Tuck just looked confused.

* * *

The moon had risen high, and inside the hut, the women slept, except Deirdre, who was missing the warmth of Allan's body, the sound of his breathing, and even his snoring in her ear. She got up and went over to the fire to sit and stare a bit.

"Can't sleep?" Madeline's voice startled Deirdre.

"Guess not," Deirdre replied as the healer came over to sit by her.

"That handsome husband of yours has you in a dither, doesn't 'e?"

"What? No! Of course not. Maybe a bit." Deirdre paused. "Is it sad that I miss him when he's not around for a single night?"

"Not sad. Normal." At Deirdre's unbelieving look, Madeline added, "I was married once, you know. When I was your age. We had children, too. My children live far away now, avoiding the taint of being 'the witch's' children; my husband died years ago, an ailment of the heart."

"I'm sorry, Madeline."

"It's a long time ago. You learn to live with the loss, the loneliness. Mind, I was just gettin' used to bein' alone when you lot showed up." The statement sounded almost like an admonition, and Deirdre ducked her head to hide the little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The smile soon turned to a frown though, as Deirdre thought of Madeline's earlier words.

"Madeline?"

"Yes, child?"

"What you said earlier, about me and Allan not lying together for a full moon of time after the baby comes…you were joking, right?"

"Wrong."

"But why?"

"Deirdre, I don't usually ask new mothers to think of this, but here it is. Do you remember the pain the first time you lay with Allan?"

"Yes, but it was over so quickly..."

"That was nothing. Think of the size of him when he's inside you."

Deirdre began to flush, thinking just that and of how good he would feel right now inside her.

"Now think of the size of a newborn babe and picture that pushing _out _of you."

Deirdre's face went pale and she swallowed convulsively. Madeline patted her hand comfortingly.

"Don't you worry. You're a strong girl and I can give you something to take the edge off the pain. The thing is, you'll need time to heal. And until your body is healed, your husband will have to find other ways to _entertain_ himself."

Deirdre nodded mutely, no longer caring to go out and find Allan, at least not for anything he would enjoy. She had half a mind at this point to beat the man senseless for putting the child in her body in the first place.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this took awhile. Between having my youngest home for summer break (he needs to be doing something constantly!) and a small dose of depression and writer's block, I'm a bit behind. Hope you enjoy! Cheer me up and let me know what you think please. Thank you! :)**


	22. Chapter 22: Married

Chapter Twenty-two: Married

Birds were chirping in the little meadow as the men built up the fire again, yawning and stretching to try to work out the kinks the cool evening had brought. Robin had not slept a wink, but looked eager and refreshed. Allan had not slept either; his mussed-up hair from tossing and turning and dark circles under his eyes made that fact clear. Robin smiled as he put Allan to work, gathering firewood, to give him something to do. The wedding would take place later in the afternoon; they would all eat dinner, then the newlyweds would head back to camp before darkness fell.

* * *

In the little hut, Deirdre was finally asleep and the other women worked quietly around her, eating breakfast and making last-minute preparations. Marian washed up in a small bucket; her hair was dipped in the bucket as well and scrubbed, then dried in front of the fire until it gleamed. It was after the midday meal when Deirdre finally woke up and toddled off to the woods to relieve herself. When she came back, she cleaned up as well before swallowing some bread and broth and then helping to weave the flowers in Marian's hair. Madeline exited the hut and coughed to get the men's attention; at once, they stopped talking and lined up, making a path for the women to walk down toward Tuck and Robin.

Djaq was next, feeling foolish wearing a dress and holding flowers since they weren't running a scam. She looked up, blushing at Will's rapt expression and only moved again when Deirdre, who had been glaring angrily at a confused Allan, ran into her from behind.

Inside the hut, Marian took a deep breath. She had wanted to be with Robin since they were children; now—finally—they would be together. Admittedly, when she had pictured it, they had been Lord and Lady Locksley, not outlaws in Sherwood Forest, but if Deirdre could do it, so could she. She closed her eyes briefly before opening the door and stepping out.

* * *

Robin waited with Tuck near the little rill that ran by the hut, where there was plenty of shade to counteract the heat of the afternoon. The men had all gathered in a loose group, but dispersed to make a path when the women emerged from Madeline's home. Madeline came to a stop on Robin's left, moving over to make room for Marian; Djaq stood by Will, and Deirdre turned from her bewildered husband to stand on the other side of the path from him. Allan and Robin exchanged a glance and shrugged, ignoring Deirdre's odd action for the moment as Marian emerged from the doorway.

She stepped from the shadows, framed by the mid-afternoon sunlight. Her hair was tied loosely with flowers woven in it and her blue eyes sparkled. Where the women had gotten the white cloth to make her dress, Robin had no idea, nor where they had managed to scavenge lace for a veil. He suspected that Deirdre must have had a hand in it, either through thievery or her former connections, but at this moment, he could have cared less if she had nicked it from Queen Eleanor herself.

Robin had none of the jitters Allan had expressed at his own wedding. He had teased Marian when they were children, tormenting her as a way to show his childish affection. He had dreamt of Marian in the Holy Land, her face the light in a world of darkness and despair. He had nearly lost her to Gisbourne countless times, and once nearly to Sir Edward's old friend, Lord Winchester. Today, finally, she would be his. He reached out to take her hand as she neared, the smile suffusing his whole face.

* * *

Tuck beamed as he looked at the couple before him. How could anyone _not _smile, seeing their obvious happiness? He began intoning the ritual words, "Dearly Beloved…" His voice hesitated as his gaze took in the other married couple, one on either side of the path; Deirdre looked angry, Allan looked confused. Tuck coughed and carried on. "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman…" By the time Tuck reached the end of the ceremony and gave the new husband permission to kiss his new wife, everyone was smiling.

John and Allan ducked inside the cottage to wrestle the table out into the meadow, while Much, Deirdre, Djaq, and Will brought out the food. They sat to eat, with Marian and Robin at the center, but Allan and Deirdre as the center of attention as he continually tried to sit by her and she just as continually moved, finally standing up to sit on the edge of the bench by Tuck. As the light began to fade, Robin and Marian left for the camp, escorted by Little John and Much, who would return once the newlyweds were safe. Will and Djaq sat by the fire, stars in their eyes from the romance of the day, while Tuck helped Madeline straighten the hut. Deirdre tried to help with the cleaning until Allan took her by the arm and steered her toward the woods.

"We're going to get some firewood. We'll be back," he called as Deirdre continued to glare at him.

When they were far enough from the clearing for some privacy, he stopped and turned to his wife.

"What is your problem?"

"Nothing," Deirdre sniffed, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, you've told _way_ better lies than that," he declared.

Deirdre continued to look anywhere but at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Allan came up behind her and put his arms around her, kissing her neck and nibbling on her ear. Almost at once, he was doubled over in pain as Deirdre's elbow jabbed him in the ribs.

"That's how I got in this position in the first place," she cried. "Now leave me be!"

Maybe it was the pain of his bruised ribs, but Allan could have sworn he heard fear in her voice. He looked up to see her striding quickly away.

"Deirdre!" He had to run to catch up to her, but when he did, he was shocked to see the tears on her face.

"What's the matter?" He pulled her close and comforted her, kissing the top of her head and telling her that everything was going to be all right.

"Easy for you to say," she blubbered into his chest. "You don't have to get _this_ out of your body!" She gestured helplessly at her belly when Allan pushed her back to look at her face.

"Ah, Deirdre, is that all this's about? Women've been doin' that for centuries. You'll be fine."

The glare was back in her eyes as she responded to him, "And men have been saying that for centuries. If _you_ lot had to deliver the babies, people would've been gone long since!"

Allan raised his eyebrows, offended. "That's not fair. Men can take pain better'n women any day."

"Really?" With a jerk, Deirdre dropped him where he stood. Allan lay on the ground, clutching himself in pain.

Deirdre sniffed haughtily and strode back to the clearing.

* * *

Marian was feeling awkward. She had waited for this moment so long, had avoided it with men she did not care for, or did not care for enough. Now the time was here—no more running, no more hiding behind the need to protect her father. Tonight she would become a woman, tonight she would belong to Robin of Locksley completely. She trembled slightly as Robin stood up from where he had made a small fire and walked over to her.

Gently, almost reverently, he raised a hand to her cheek, smiling at the softness, at her acceptance. He moved closer, placing his lips tenderly on hers; Marian responded to his kiss, letting herself melt against him. For what seemed like hours he kissed her and rubbed her arms while she relaxed even further. She barely noticed when her dress pooled at her feet.

Robin's kisses increased in their urgency before he broke off to remove his shirt. As he began kissing her again, Marian pushed him over to sit on one of the benches, then knelt at his feet to begin unlacing his boots. One by one, she removed them, then looked up to smile at him shyly. Robin returned her smile and stood, helping her up, and leading her into the bower where he continued his slow, patient assault on her senses.

He moved her shift off of her shoulder, kissing and nibbling on the delicate skin that was now exposed, before removing the cloth completely to let it fall to the ground.

Marian gasped at the sudden exposure and Robin pushed her away at arm's length to take a good look at what Marian had been keeping him from thus far. Quickly, she moved her hands and arm to cover her exposed parts.

"Ah, Marian, don't be such a spoil sport. If you let me see yours, I'll let you see mine," he teased as he slowly untied the string to his pants, letting them fall to the ground.

Marian blushed furiously and looked away, then her head turned slowly back; she raised her eyes to Robin's as he gently moved her arms away, his gaze appraising her unhurriedly. He pulled her back toward him, clamping his mouth down on hers once more before picking her up to place her on the bed.

* * *

Allan came limping into camp, his face a mask of anger. The gang had seen Deirdre stomp out of the forest not long before; she had settled silently by the fire, ignoring the pointed stares. As Allan caught sight of her and veered toward her, the others made a wide berth for him.

"Not again," Much whined; Deirdre and Allan's fights made him nervous. For two people who professed to love each other, they sure did yell a lot.

Allan hesitated, then broke into a wide grin, but even in the failing light, the heat in his eyes was unmistakable.

"I dunno whatcha mean, Much."

Allan sat next to Deirdre, who ignored him completely, continuing to gaze into the fire. They sat in silence until Allan stretched and yawned, continuing to yawn until he saw Deirdre try to stifle one from the corner of his eye. Moments later, her eyes closed briefly and she rocked slightly forward, her head jerking up suddenly and her eyes wide as she caught herself.

"C'mon, Luv, you look tired. Let's to bed then, eh?" Allan stood, holding his hand out to help her up, but Deirdre shook her head.

"I'm fine. Don't let me stop you though, if you're tired." Deirdre's eyes were wide with the effort to keep them from drooping as she looked up at her husband.

Allan sat again, arms akimbo on his knees. "I can probly manage a bit longer."

The gang watched the war of wills as Deirdre gradually lost, her pregnancy a disadvantage, making her sleepy. When Allan had to catch her from falling into the fire, Madeline spoke up.

"Why don't you two take the hut for the night—it'll give you a bit of privacy, eh?"

Deirdre glared sleepily at the older woman. "No, we'll be…"

"Thank you, Mother."

Allan's answer not only rode over Deirdre's refusal, but reminded his wife of the respect due to the older woman. Deirdre grumbled a sleepy "thank you" as Allan helped her to her feet, leading her to the hut.

Inside, he closed the door and turned to his wife, intending on lacing into her verbally.

"Allan, I'm sorry."

"What?" Deirdre's apology took the wind completely out of his sails.

"I said, I'm sorry. About before." She nodded her head toward his groin.

Allan glowered at her, frowning. He wanted to be angry with her, but when she glanced up, she looked so scared Allan immediately went to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her gently.

"What's the matter, Luv?" he asked, his breath feathering her mouth.

"Nothing."

Allan pushed her to arm's length so he could look at her face. "Deirdre, you're not still scared about havin' the baby, are you?"

Deirdre hesitated before admitting, "Of course I am, Allan. I don't know if I want to have this baby, or any baby. What Madeline said about giving birth…" she trailed off, looking at Allan, hoping he would understand.

"It's a bit late for second thoughts, Deirdre. As for what Madeline said, I wouldn't worry. When the time comes, I'll be sure that she's there, and Djaq too. The two of them saved you from that sword wound, they can help you through this. Besides, you're the strongest, bravest woman I know. You'll put every other woman to shame, makin' it look like nothin'."

Deirdre smiled a small smile at Allan. "I guess it does sound kind of foolish. If my mum could do it six times, then I guess I'll be okay. I just wish I could see her, you know?"

"I know, Luv, I know." Allan pulled her close again, kissing the side of her head.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, y'all, I just could _not_ seem to get detailed with Robin and Marian--I felt like a dirty old lady, and it read quite awkwardly!**


	23. Chapter 23: The Gift

Chapter Twenty-three

Marian awoke deliciously sore in the most unusual places. She could feel Robin's warmth pressed against her back and her bottom, his arm rested casually over her side and belly and his breath tickled the hair on her neck. Carefully, she extricated herself from his grasp and walked on rubbery legs out to the main camp, where she found the little pouch of Queen Anne's lace seeds Madeline had given her. She chewed one of the oily, bitter seeds and prayed that they would work. The last thing they all needed was another baby on the way.

* * *

Allan and Deirdre awoke in Madeline's little cottage similarly spooned. Both had slept deeply and well, Allan's arm protective over Deirdre and the baby. Deirdre yawned and stretched, feeling Allan stir behind her; she rolled over to snuggle into his warmth as he nuzzled the top of her head. She kissed his chest lightly before rising to put on her pants and shirt. Her bladder felt ready to burst and her stomach grumbled. Allan opened one eye, cocking his eyebrow at her.

"Off to get us some food?" he asked innocently.

"Off to take care of some business, then get _myself_ some food," she replied.

"What about your famished 'usband?"

"What about him? Did his legs break in the night?"

"Well, no but…"

"Good, then he can get me a plate while he's about it."

"I…"

Deirdre's glare brooked no argument, but Allan did mutter unhappily about wrong-headed women as his wife went into the forest to relieve herself. By the time Deirdre came back and sat by the fire, Much and Madeline had breakfast ready and Allan was waiting with a plate for her. Deirdre sat and ate, hungrily wolfing down everything on the plate as the others watched somewhat fearfully, before turning to plant a most un-chaste kiss on her husband's mouth.

"Thank you, Mo Croi," she whispered against his lips as her hand reached for the bacon that was still on his plate.

"Hey! Allan cried as she quickly placed his bacon in her own mouth, chewing and swallowing on a laugh.

Deirdre batted her eyelashes at him. "I a_m _eating for two, Allan."

"Two what, though," he muttered darkly, staring at his empty plate while the others chuckled.

* * *

That evening, Allan found himself out of sorts again, as Deirdre offered their bower to Robin and Marian.

"But it's _our_ room!" he declared in shock, as Deirdre began collecting their things.

"But they're newlyweds, they need their privacy," Deirdre countered.

"And you're pregnant!" Allan began going behind her, putting things back.

"So? Robin's the leader; now that he's married, he should have the private room. Would you see my father give up his rooms to Martin?"

"Well, no, but it's ours…" he complained.

Deirdre turned on Allan in exasperation. "Allan, what's this really about?"

Allan looked uncomfortable. Deirdre always managed to see through him. "It's just that, I mean, before I went to Notting'am, I never 'ad any privacy. I guess I've kinda got used to it."

Deirdre leaned against him, putting her arms around him and resting her head on his chest.

"Mo Croi, we'll have our own room again one day, I promise. King Richard will come home, my da can stop this ruse, and we'll all be pardoned. I bet Da'll give us a nice little manor as a late wedding present. By that time, I can probably even guilt him into giving us some horses."

Allan smiled at the idea, but still did not want to leave the privacy he had with his wife.  
"That's lovely, Sweet'eart, but what about in the meantime?"

Deirdre stood, her brow furrowed, chewing on her lower lip. Allan cocked an eyebrow at her, wondering what is God's name she was thinking of now.

"We'll be moving to the cave for the winter soon, yes?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So why don't we move now? We'll have tons of privacy and it's not that far," Deirdre reasoned.

"You mean just you and me?"

"Yes."

From the main part of the camp, Robin's voice interrupted, reminding them that "privacy" was a matter of perspective.

"No."

The door opened and Robin stuck his head in, pulling Marian in behind him.

"I don't want us separated. We have safety in numbers. If we're apart, we'll be easier to pick off," Robin reasoned.

Marian frowned, knowing Robin was right, but not wanting to push her friend out of a room she had been occupying already, particularly since Allan was right—the pregnant woman should have the room. She also knew that Deirdre was right in claiming that the newlyweds needed some privacy. "Why don't we trade it off?"

"What?" the others asked in shocked unison.

"I said, why don't we trade off until we move?"

Allan and Robin looked at each other and shrugged. Deirdre looked thoughtful.

"Then what happens next summer?"

"We'll worry about that next summer," Allan replied to his wife.

"It really is the best solution for now," Robin added thoughtfully.

Deirdre nibbled her lip, uncertainly.

"How will it work? We each take a week or will it be when whoever…needs the room or what?"

"Every other night," Marian replied, coloring slightly as the others looked at her.

Deirdre wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips before sighing in defeat.

"All right. For now," she added at the relieved smiles of the others. "But we need to think about this over the winter and come up with a better solution. By mid-winter, Allan and I will have a little one; by next winter, you two might."

Marian looked a little uncomfortable and Deirdre made a mental note to talk to her later.

Things were settled and Deirdre brooked no argument as she insisted that Robin and Marian get the first night, even though they had had the bower last night.

"But where are we gonna…" Allan trailed off.

"Who says we're going to?"

"Deirdre, be reasonable. I mean, we didn't last night. 'ow do you expect that I'm gonna go for another whole night?"

"Did you not hear what Madeline said about after the baby comes? That we won't be able to for a month or more? Think of this as practice."

"But I don't want any practice. I got plenty o' practice before we was married," Allan whined.

Deirdre chuckled, standing on her toes to kiss her petulant husband, her arms around his neck.

Allan removed her hands, pushing her away as he felt his groin tightening.

"Now, Luv, you've given our room away. Don't start what you can't finish." He shot Robin a resigned look, sighing heavily. "I'll take first watch, I s'pose."

Robin grinned good-naturedly, clapping Allan on the back. "Now you know how I felt all those nights with you two in there."

Allan frowned before exiting the camp. "Funny, Robin. Funny."

* * *

A month passed and the weather cooled. The gang began moving into the cave that would keep them warm and dry over the winter. The cave they chose was not one big cave, but rather a system of caves that ran off a main path, almost like a hall with rooms off the sides. The middle of October saw them completely settled, with stores of kindling, firewood, food, and dried herbs, as well as wood, sinews, feathers, and fat for the making of arrows. They would spend most of the winter making arrows, patching clothing, and trying to stave off boredom until spring opened up the roads to unwary, rich travelers again. Deirdre, Djaq, and Marian spent long days at Madeline's, learning about herbs, and about birthing, just in case Madeline would be unable to get to the cave when Deirdre's time came in January. Life settled into a routine—two days a week saw the gang at Madeline's, with the men hunting for the older woman and the women helping her to pick and dry herbs; the rest of the time, the gang would switch off on watching the road for last-minute travelers and taking care of their own stores, as well as bringing food to the villages.

Deirdre sat outside the cave on a rock, enjoying the cool of the air, as well as the cool on her bottom; she seemed to always be hot these days, despite the change in weather. The rest of the gang, including the other women, had gone off to do a patrol of the North Road, hoping to catch some last–minute travelers. Deirdre was sewing a little sleeping gown for the baby when Allan strolled up, a huge grin splitting his face.

Deirdre looked up at her husband's approach, and her breath caught in her throat; he always looked so darned handsome when he smiled like that. He stopped and stood before her, his hands behind his back.

"Mornin', Luv," Allan quipped.

Deirdre looked askance at her husband, who was never known for being a very good morning person.

"What's got you in such a good mood today?"

"I've got my health, the love of a good woman, _and_ the luck of the Irish," he replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that we happened to stumble across a rich lady, traveling through Sherwood. I managed to liberate this from her," he bragged, pulling his hands from behind his back and presenting the long, cylindrical object.

Deirdre's eyes widened slightly. "Allan, is that what I think it is?"

"Go on, take it. Try it out."

Deirdre reached tentatively toward the object in Allan's hands. As she held it and ran her fingers up the sides, Allan spoke again.

"I hear the ladies at court use these a lot, especially on long summer nights. Do you know how it works?"

"Of course I know how it works, Allan. I had one once myself, very similar to this," she answered, stroking the sides wonderingly with her fingertips. She leaned closer to inspect some scratches and her eyes widened in shock.

"This_ is_ mine!"

"How do you know that?"

"See these scratches here?"

Allan looked, nodding his head.

"I put those scratches into it. Well, actually, it was my brother Michael's head that put them there. He caught me using it in my room one day and I was embarrassed, so I hunted him down and beat him with it."

"Why were you so embarrassed? There's nothing wrong with wanting a little relief."

"I was a bit of a tom-boy when I was younger," Deirdre began.

"No!" Allan looked at her in mock surprise.

"I'll beat _you_ with it next if you're not careful, Allan A' Dale! Anyway, when he caught me doing a 'woman thing', I knew I had to prove to him I was every bit as strong as ever or the teasing would never end."

"So you chased him down and beat him with it?"

Deirdre looked up at him with round, innocent eyes.

"I had to, Allan. My reputation was on the line."

"You're lucky it's good quality and you didn't break it. It's not like you find these for sale at every market day. Where'd you get it anyway?"

"My da gave it to me when I was thirteen. Said as I was now a lady, it was time I had a lady's things." Deirdre made a face. "Worst birthday of my life. All I wanted was a sword, and Mum and Da gave me this, and some silver brushes and gemstone pins for my hair, silk dresses and ladies' slippers. Martin saved me from a real good beating when he caught me trying to sell the stuff in town. That was when he had my sword made for me and gave it to me in private, training me without Da knowing for quite some time."

"Aye, and he boxed both your ears when he found out," called a voice from behind her.

Deirdre stiffened and turned, her face lighting up as she looked on the woman who had spoken.

"Ma!" she squealed, jumping to her feet like she wasn't six month pregnant. She ran to Brianna O'Niall and threw her arms around the older woman.

Brianna laughed in delight. "Be careful, Lass, you'll crush the gift your husband's brought for you. When Friar Tuck came and gave us the message from Allan of how you fared, but that you missed us, and were always hot, I thought you might like having the fan your da picked up for you in the Orientl."

Deirdre smiled at her mother, opening the fan and waving it up and down, sighing in relief when the cool air moved across her face.

"It was a fine gift then and it's a fine gift now, especially since it comes with my mum as well," Deirdre declared.

Brianna looked askance at her daughter. "What happened to 'worst birthday ever'?"

"Upon reflection, it wasn't so bad."

The two women laughed and Brianna put her arm around her daughter's shoulders to lead her back to her husband.


	24. Chapter 24: The Visit

**A/N: Sorry it has been awhile. I was visiting my parents in Connecticut and they do not have internet, but they do have distrustful neighbors, so I had to traipse off to the local coffee shop for my daily email check. I am back now, and hopefully will get myself sorted again soon! I am introducing a new character in this chapter, Lady Adelaide of Mablethorpe. With winter closing in on Sherwood, the outlaws will be idle, so I thought the temporary shift in focus would be good. I hope you come to like Adelaide as much as I do! As always, I appreciate your feedback--good and bad. :)**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-four: The Visit

It was late morning, the sun was beginning to warm the air, and Deirdre and Brianna were sitting by the stream, enjoying the cooler air found by the water. The rock they sat on was the same huge granite boulder that Deirdre often sat on when she wanted to look at the water and think. The enormous slab jutted out over the water, its bulk disturbing the flow of the stream, and reached back all the way into the woods, where it was so covered with moss and dirt that it seemed to disappear. Deirdre looked around, drinking in the sights of the bright sun as it peeked through the multi-colored leaves and danced on the water; those same colorful leaves were quickly making a beautiful carpet on the forest floor. Autumn was her favorite time of year, a time she felt alive as the cool air rejuvenated her body, the smell of wood-smoke was more pronounced, and the leaves turning gold, red, orange, and yellow made an ethereal show against the vivid blue skies.

"How long will you stay, Mum?" Deirdre asked, afraid of the answer but needing to know.

"We need to stop at the Four Corners Inn tonight. The story is that I'm on my way to visit a friend in father sends his love; he was with Prince John still, but will be coming home before winter closes the roads. Martin is busy keeping things under control at Dun Aisling."

"I wish I could come home," Deirdre sighed.

Brianna raised an eyebrow at her daughter. She had been unable to give her daughter the tongue-lashing she deserved at the time of the events, but they were together now, with no audience, and all of Brianna's pent-up frustration came roiling out.

"Deirdre, falling in love with Allan was fate, nothing you could control, but stealing from the prince and from the Sheriff of Nottingham were things you did not have to do. I love you, Mo Mhúirnín Bán¹, but you made that bed and now you must lie in it. You cannot expect to poke a bee's nest and come away unscathed. With luck, and your father's influence, we may be able to get you exiled to Ireland, but that will take time. Your father has already sent for a stallion and some mares from Northern Africa as a gift to Prince John to make up for your thievery, but they will not come until spring."

Deirdre had the good sense to look properly chastised by her mother's tirade.

"I am sorry, Máthair². I was only trying to help the poor. I remember what it was like; I couldn't stand by and watch people starve and freeze to death."

Brianna sighed. "I know, A Chailín³, and no one can blame you for that, but surely there are other ways. You could have settled down with a rich man and treated your own people well. Many of your suitors would have given away half their wealth to the poor to have you as their bride."

"Would you have me bought and paid for then, Máthair? I would have thought you, of all people, would understand!"

"Calm yourself, child. Of course I understand. And my answer it that I would have you married to a man who would send a message through a priest to bring your mother—and a fan—to your side when you had need of them. I would have you married to a man whose eyes are lit with love when he looks at you. But you must learn to pick and choose your battles. I wish you could have everything you wanted, but that is not the case in life. Sometimes, we must count our blessings and be thankful for what we _do_ have. You have the love of a good man, you carry his child in your belly, you both have good friends, you have enough to eat, and Allan has assured me that this cave you will winter in will keep you warm and dry. Let that be enough for now," Brianna reasoned.

"You mean take care of myself and forget all those others, let them die and rot?" Deirdre responded hotly.

"No. I mean, take care of yourself _first_. If it was just you and Allan outlawed in this forest alone, without Robin and the others, how many poor people do you think you would be helping right now?"

Deirdre grimaced. Her mother always had a way of making sense from an opposing viewpoint, much to Deirdre's annoyance.

"You are right, Máthair, as always," she conceded.

"Of course I am, A Chailín; as you will be with your child. So, have you names picked out yet for my grandson?"

"I was thinking of naming your _granddaughter_ Brianna, but now I'm re-thinking that," Deirdre teased.

"You're carrying low, Lass—it's a boy. Are you seeing a midwife?"

"Aye, and Madeline says it's boy, too. But I dream of a girl at night, so surely it's a girl, right?"

Brianna smiled at her daughter's consternation. "I'd start considering boy's names if I were you."

* * *

Guy strolled down the halls of the castle the prince was residing in near Fulham, outside of London. Guy found London itself to be vile—the streets were filled with the refuse of both human and animal residents, and with slops buckets being emptied from above, a man was constantly dodging a revolting dousing. Marketers shouted about their wares, each trying to outdo the other for sheer volume, while the quality of their products was sorely lacking. Rancid food was sold at cut-rate prices to people already unhealthy from filth and unbalanced diets, causing disease to spread rapidly amongst the poor.

Guy had left the city as soon as he could, breathing a sigh of relief as his lungs were treated to the fresh air of the country-side. Now he was a guest of Prince John, who seemed to be in no hurry to send the morose Sir Guy home to Nottingham. The prince had hinted that he might have a gift that would lift Gisbourne's spirits and that he would present it to him that evening at supper. Guy grimaced, hoping it wouldn't be anything gaudy, and then smiled at the thought that it might be new lands—far to the east, perhaps, somewhere far away from Nottingham and Sherwood Forest.

* * *

The sun was beginning its descent as Brianna and her daughter bid each other a tearful good-bye; both women knew it was unlikely they would see each other again any time soon.

Brianna slid a conspiratorial wink to Allan as she talked to her daughter.

"Promise me you'll take good care of my grandson."

Allan nodded, grinning at his mother-in-law.

"We will. Little Tom's in good 'ands, don't you worry," he responded, wrapping his arms around his wife as he held her from behind. Suddenly, he jumped back.

"Oy!"

"What's wrong?"

"Your belly just moved, I swear!" Allan's eyes were wide and Deirdre began to laugh.

"Our daughter didn't like you lot calling her a boy," she giggled.

"What d'ya mean by that?" Allan moved cautiously back to encircle his wife's waist.

"The baby kicked, is all. Madeline said it's perfectly normal, not to worry; in fact, she said I should worry if the baby doesn't kick."

"Normal? For a child to kick its father and not even be born?" Allan asked incredulously, looking to Brianna for confirmation.

The Irishwoman nodded, smiling in affection at her daughter.

"Just wait until you see what he does to you after he's born."

"I can 'ardly wait," he added sardonically before grinning hugely and planting another kiss on Deirdre's cheek.

Deirdre returned his proud grin and giggled as his beard tickled her neck; her smile faded as she watched her mother mount and ride away with her retinue.

* * *

Guy sat next to the prince, in the sought-after right-hand seat, as the guests began arriving for supper. One after another they came forward to present themselves, lords and ladies seeking the royal favor. The prince sat bored for the most part, and then suddenly sat up from his slouch, leaning forward in his chair.

"Ah, Lady Adelaide of Mablethorpe. How pleasant to see you once again. We see you are still wearing your mourning clothes."

Lady Adelaide raised a brown eyebrow disrespectfully at Prince John. Gisbourne took a moment to look her over, having noted the prince's sudden interest. The lady was about the same age as Deirdre, with light brown hair and green eyes. Her skin was golden from too much time spent in the sun; Guy wondered idly why a lady would spend so much time out-of-doors. She was tall for a woman, her body slight but fit, and her tone when she spoke bordered on arrogance.

"It has only been eleven months, 10 days, and a handful of hours since I heard of Sir Henry's death."

"But who's counting, eh?" the prince put in sarcastically.

Lady Adelaide inclined her head in acknowledgement, silently waiting to be dismissed.

"Black does not suit you, My Lady. I look forward to seeing you out of those clothes when your mourning is through."

Prince John knew his jest had struck home when the lady looked up quickly, her green eyes lit with fire.

Before she could respond, he added, "I think you would look quite pretty in white. Have you met Sir Guy of Gisbourne yet? He holds the lands of Locksley, near Nottingham."

Adelaide took only a moment to recover from the prince's sudden change in tack. "Nottingham is to the north and west of here, is it not, My Lord?"

"It is."

"Then how would I have met him? My lands are south and east of here. It would be unseemly for a widow to travel while in mourning."

"Your lands, My Lady?"

Lady Adelaide had the good sense to blush. "Lord Henry's lands, where I currently reside, My Lord."

The prince smiled dangerously. "Yes, of course. Go, enjoy your dinner. We will send for you later."

Lady Adelaide sketched a quick curtsey and moved away to her table. Prince John and Sir Guy watched her go.

"I should have taken the rights of first night with that one, Gisbourne."

Guy turned to look quickly at the prince. "My Lord?"

"She was given to Henry of Mablethorpe ten years ago; he left two years after that for the Crusades, and in less than a month will have been declared dead for one year. She now holds his lands, which border the coast. If she was not so fond of the sun and someone could curb that nasty tongue of hers, she would make someone a good wife."

"Someone, My Lord?" Guy shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Prince John turned to him with a smile of satisfaction. "You, Gisbourne."

* * *

Lady Adelaide sat at her table, staring at the food that she would no longer be able to taste. She knew the prince was always up to something, but when that something seemed to concern her, it made Adelaide nervous. People talked to her and she listened as best as she could, but found herself unable to fully participate in the conversation. At one point, she looked up to find the eyes of the prince's new puppet boring into her. _What was his name again? Gisbourne? _His gaze made her uncomfortable, the anger in his eyes tinged with appraisal and disdain. Prince John glanced over at one point, his gaze sliding between her and Gisbourne, his smile devious as he raised his cup to her and drank deeply. Adelaide was afraid she knew exactly why the prince wanted to see her later. The way he had asked about her period of mourning and introduced her to Gisbourne, the way he and Gisbourne were looking at her now, like hungry wolves salivating over an injured rabbit, made her nervous. Prince John's comment that she would look good in white was not lost on her either. She made up her mind to claim illness later, a female problem so that they would leave her alone and not ask questions. After the fiasco of her marriage to Sir Henry, she would rather die than be given to another man.

* * *

1. My fair darling

2. Mother

3. My girl


	25. Chapter 25: Wives

Chapter Twenty-five: Wives

Lady Adelaide had excused herself early from dinner, claiming illness as she had planned, and so was quite surprised to hear the knock on her door and the voice of one of Prince John's messengers on the other side. She exchanged a look with her maid, Mary, who then reminded the messenger that her lady had left dinner and was not feeling well.

"The prince is well aware of your lady's illness. He demands her presence in his chambers nonetheless. If she does not come with me forthwith, I am charged to gather an escort to convince her back to health."

The messenger's tone brooked no refusal and Adelaide sighed in irritation as she rose from her chair by the fire and made her way to the door followed by her maidservant. She opened the door and glared at the man, so secure in his position that he could give orders to nobles without looking uncomfortable. He bowed and gestured for her to follow him as he made his way to the prince's chambers.

At the prince's door, the messenger bowed again as he bade the women to enter.

Prince John sat, flanked on the right once again by Sir Guy of Gisbourne. A scribe sat at his left, parchment and ink ready. Adelaide stepped inside the door and curtsied low, her stomach doing flip-flops.

"Have a seat, My Dear." Prince John's voice dripped charm as he indicated the chair that had just been pulled forward by a servant.

Adelaide moved stiffly to the chair, feeling much like a lamb who knew it was about to be slaughtered, but for whom there was no escape. She could struggle and balk, but in the end, she was tied by her allegiance to the royal house. She sat, but refused to relax, instead perching on the edge of the seat as if she would run at the slightest provocation. Sir Guy was looking at her as though she were a prize mare at an auction, his steady gaze making her uncomfortable; Prince John just looked like he wanted to bed her then and there. Adelaide swallowed, trying desperately not to appear too frightened, as some men seemed to like it when a woman was frightened of them.

Guy watched Adelaide through hooded eyes, assessing her as a potential wife since the prince seemed to have it in his mind to see them joined. He could do worse, he conceded as he allowed his gaze to slide over her form. She was certainly not unattractive and would look a whole lot better once she was out of her mourning clothes and when she did not find herself so much in the sun. She was neither a frightened child like Marian, nor a rebellious young woman like Deirdre; despite looking both slightly frightened and slightly rebellious at the moment, Guy got the impression that she would do as she was commanded. Lady Adelaide was a woman, not a child, and had been married, so she was used to taking orders from a husband. She had wealth, and lands with a port access. The fact that she had borne no children to her husband was bothersome, but only slightly. Prince John said that she had been only fourteen when she was joined to Henry of Mablethorpe, a man thirty years her senior, and that he had left on crusade two years later.

Prince John allowed his gaze to slide between Sir Guy and Lady Adelaide. Henry of Mablethorpe had been a staunch supporter of the king, and since his lands were on the coast to the east, they represented a very strong holding. Having Henry's widow marry a man who supported him and not his brother suited the prince very well. Gisbourne had not seemed extraordinarily happy with the prince's decision to marry him to Lady Adelaide until the advantages had been explained to him. Now Gisbourne sat at ease in his chair, gazing at his soon-to-be fiancé calmly. Lady Adelaide, on the other hand, sat perched on the edge of her chair, obviously ill at ease. Prince John let her squirm for a bit longer, his fingers steepled with his chin resting on them, his gaze hot on her form. _Ah, to have had the right of droit de seigneur on her _first_ wedding night_, he mused before shaking his head regretfully; he could not invoke the right now and keep Gisbourne's loyalty. He exhaled loudly before speaking.

"Let us get right to the point, shall we? You, Lady Adelaide, are nearly over your period of mourning and will need a husband to see to your lands…"

"My Lord Prince, I beg to differ. My lands have paid you more since the absence of Sir Henry than ever they did while under his care. I have proven that my steward and I can manage the lands quite well, I believe." Adelaide spoke quickly, unable to stop her tongue as her worst fears seemed to be coming true.

Prince John raised an angry eyebrow at the interruption, but chose to ignore it for the moment, choosing instead to cut off her tirade.

"Sir Guy is in need of a wife who can give lands and wealth back to his family name. On the first of January, you shall be wed. Since you have no living father to act for you, I shall act on your behalf. Am I not merciful?"

Gisbourne was the first to speak. "Thank you My Lord. You are indeed merciful."

Lady Adelaide was speechless, her mouth gaping open in astonishment. She lowered her head demurely and Gisbourne smiled. Here was a woman who knew how to behave properly, despite her earlier outburst. His smile wavered as she spoke again.

"My Lord, it is because you are so well known for your mercy that I feel I can ask you to reconsider. If it is land Lord Gisbourne needs, I would be happy to part with some. If it is wealth, I would give that as well. I only ask to not be married again so soon after Sir Henry's death. I do not wish to taint his memory."

Prince John's face hardened, as did his tone. "And that is why you shall have two months after the mourning period is over to prepare for your wedding. I will hear no more. You will stay here, both of you, until the day arrives. Once you are joined, you may go to Mablethorpe and acquaint your new husband with Henry's former lands. You are dismissed, Lady," the prince added as Lady Adelaide looked like she was going to continue to argue.

Lady Adelaide stood, curtsying stiffly to the prince and Gisbourne before turning to leave, her back ramrod straight.

"Well, Gisbourne, what do you think? Henry was gone for nine years of their marriage, and she's been in mourning for the last year. Lady Adelaide has had too many years without the firm hand of a husband to guide her, but I believe she will come back under control easily enough."

"I agree, My Lord. I will remind her of her manners." Lady Adelaide's rejection stung. Guy was tired of women snubbing him.

* * *

In her chambers, Adelaide threw herself onto her bed. As her maid stoked the fire, she could hear the sounds of her mistress weeping.

"Milady, surely it is not so bad…"

"Henry was a monster! I will not go through that again!"

"Perhaps this Guy of Gisbourne will be different," Mary reasoned.

"Ha!" Adelaide laughed mirthlessly. "Did you not see the way he looked at me like I was something to be purchased? I half expected him to get up and come over to look at my teeth!"

"All men are fools, it's true, Milady, but not all men are cruel."

"He is Prince John's man. Henry was a horrible man, but at least he knew who his king was!"

"My Lady! Please be careful. The walls have ears, you know." Mary looked around nervously as she said this.

"So what can Prince John do, eh? Kill me? Better death than marriage," Adelaide added glumly.

* * *

In Sherwood, Marian and Robin walked hand-in-hand, having delivered their load of food to one of the drop-off points. They loitered on their way back to the camp, taking a moment to spend some much sought-after alone time together.

"When do you think King Richard will return?" Marian asked. The sooner the king returned and put things to rights, the sooner she could go back to living in a manor, living a normal life, instead of all this running and hiding and living in the forest. She had not thought that living in the forest would bother her so much, but she missed the little luxuries of a home.

"It won't be this year if he hasn't made the channel crossing yet. Perhaps next summer," Robin answered matter-of-factly.

Robin knew Marian was not pleased with living in the forest, though she tried not to show it. Marian had always been a bit of a tomboy, but she still was used to certain comforts which were unavailable in Sherwood. The freedom to come and go as she pleased was the one loss which grated on her the most, but with the sheriff's men roaming the forest looking for them, they all had to let each other know where they were going and when they expected to be back. Winter would soon drive the soldiers back to Nottingham though, and the roads would be mostly free of travelers.

Unfortunately, winter also meant less food for people who were already barely surviving. Luckily, the gang were all good hunters, except for Deirdre, who was still a terrible shot with an arrow, and suddenly seemed to find every animal too cute and fuzzy to kill. The last time they had even brought home a dead rabbit, Allan's wife had cried for hours; now they cleaned the animals where they killed them, bringing home the bits and pieces, but never the whole animal with its fur and head still attached.

Thinking of Deirdre, Robin smiled. Other than a few quirks of her pregnancy, the former lady had adjusted well to life in the forest, never complaining or shirking her duties; if he were honest, he would say she had adjusted even better than Marian. Deirdre's visits to Madeline had taught her much herb-lore, and now not only was their food a bit tastier, but her knowledge supplemented Djaq's medical knowledge. Robin only hoped that Marian would adjust that quickly, although the best overall would be if she didn't have to, if instead, King Richard would return and pardon them all.

Marian squeezed his hand and smiled over at him, bringing him out of his reverie.

"Penny for your thoughts," she teased him.

"I haven't even a hapenny to my name anymore," he gave back, tickling her until she squealed, begging him to stop. He pulled her to him for a passionate kiss, holding her tight as she returned the kiss.

"You're still the lord of my heart though, Robin of Locksley, no matter our fortunes," Marian breathed when they came up for air for a moment.

Robin smiled as Marian removed his shirt, running her hands over his chest before pushing him to the forest floor and following after.

* * *

Deirdre was aggravated. She had been practicing for months with the bow; pregnancy, it seemed, had not improved her aim at all. Her belly got in the way of the bow, and standing for long periods was uncomfortable on her swollen ankles. Despite the coolness of the day, she had her hair up, although a wayward strand kept tickling her nose; every time she blew it out of the way, the blonde hair settled right back onto the bridge of her nose.

"Why don't you just leave it be?" Allan asked innocently. "Not everyone can be a marksman, you know."

"I have to get this, Allan! If I don't, how can I help you take out the sheriff's men?"

"You could try aimin' for their horses, that way you'll hit the soldiers for sure," he teased just as she let loose the arrow, completely missing the bag she had been aiming at that hung safely on a nearby limb.

"Allan A' Dale, I could just kill you!" she declared, throwing down the bow and launching herself at him.

"Aye, but you'll 'ave to catch me first!" He danced easily out of her reach and she collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Allan was immediately contrite.

"I'm sorry, Luv. I was only jokin'."

He moved closer and put his arm around her. Once he was holding her, Deirdre grabbed hold and pinched him—hard.

"Ow!"

"That's what you get for mocking the mother of your child."

"Aye, I should know by now that the mother of my son is a sneaky, mean woman. And I wouldn't have her any other way," he added, leaning in for a kiss.

"And she's fat, too," Deirdre pouted. Every time she had to let out her pants, she cried. She was certain that before long, Allan would wander away for a bit with a more acrobatic woman. She was certainly less athletic than she had been, and now it was uncomfortable whenever Allan was on top of her.

"Don't be daft! There's more of you to love right now, is all. Anyway, Madeline said you'll lose all the weight when the baby comes." Allan thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, especially now.

"So you asked her if I'll be skinny again?" Deirdre demanded, blowing at the hair again.

"Yeah. It seemed to bother you that you was puttin' on weight, so I asked."

Allan took hold of her chin and made her look up at him. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

She shook her head and her brows lowered in exasperation as the lock of hair continued to tickle her. Allan noticed and pushed it behind her ear gently as he held her face in his hands.

"Your eyes are sparklin' blue, your nose is all freckles, your mouth is usually laughin'—mind, that is my second—or third—favorite thing you do with your mouth," he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, "_and_ you are growin' my son in your belly. You're smart and sassy and stubborn enough to outlast an ass in a war of wills. On top of that, you're great with a sword, and a devious little thief to boot. I wouldn't marry just anyone, Deirdre, and I wouldn't want just anyone to be the mother of my kids. I love you. I loved you when I first laid eyes on you, I love you now," he laid a hand gently on her belly, "and I will love you always."

Deirdre had begun to cry and Allan leaned forward to kiss the tears away, sending little shivers up and down Deirdre's spine. She leaned into him as his kisses gradually became more urgent. Soon, their clothes were scattered over the forest floor, and Allan had lowered himself between her thighs. She felt his erection pushing against her entrance and sighed in irritation as his weight pressed down on her belly, which in turn pressed the baby onto her bladder and made her feel like she had to pee.

"Allan, get off. I can't. I'm sorry."

Allan rolled off of her regretfully and watched as she angrily crawled around, collecting their clothes. As he watched her bottom wiggle, he decided to try something. He grabbed her hips.

"Just a minute, Luv. 'old on, now. What say we try like you was thinkin' on our weddin' night."

Deirdre turned to look at him, a shirt in one hand, her other hand reaching for a pair of pants.

"What are you on about, Allan A' Dale?"

Allan pulled her closer, his hips grinding against her bottom; before she could protest, he was pushing up inside of her, answering her question with the action.

"Allan," she panted as he pushed deeper, "what are you doing?"

"You 'ave to ask, Luv?" He pulled slightly out of her and stroked deeply back in before answering her completely.

"You ain't comfortable with me on top o' you and you got no energy to be on top o' me. I figured we'd try this first before givin' up and me havin' to find a ledge to set you on every time. So, is this good so far?"

Deirdre pushed back against him and was satisfied to hear his breath hiss in between his teeth.

"It seems to be good so far," she managed as he pulled out and pushed back into her again, each inward stroke seeming somehow deeper than the last. She put her head down, pushing her hips up higher, and felt his fingers bite into her thighs as he continued his slow assault, filling her body with his length.

Allan closed his eyes as pleasure washed over him. With every stroke, he seemed to go deeper inside of her, and far from seeming uncomfortable, Deirdre rather seemed to be enjoying this position quite a bit. He began picking up the pace, going a little deeper, a little harder as he thrust into her. She welcomed him as he pushed into her, her warm channel opening wide to allow him access and squeezing him on the outward strokes, seeming to try to keep him inside of her. Deirdre cried out and Allan stopped immediately, afraid that he had done her harm.

"Are ye all right, Luv?"

"Lord, Allan, don't stop!"

Allan grinned and continued to thrust into her, grunting as she squeezed him tight, finding her release. Moments later, she shuddered around him again as he poured his seed into her. They both sat there for a moment, panting and trying to regain their breath before Allan reluctantly pulled out of her and collapsed on the ground, gathering her into his arms and kissing her soundly.

"Now do you believe you're still gorgeous?" he murmured against her lips as she snuggled contentedly against him.


	26. Chapter 26: The Announcement

Chapter Twenty-six: The Announcement

The knock on Lady Adelaide's door so early on the cold November morning woke her and had her wondering what could be going on. She lay in bed with her eyes closed, the blankets pulled up around her neck until Mary could get the fire going. There was a rustling of skirts, a few murmured words, and the door closed again. Mary stoked the fire, opened the shutters to let in the light, and then came to wake Adelaide up.

"Who was that at the door?" Adelaide asked, startling Mary, who had been just about to push on Lady Adelaide's arm to awaken her.

"My Lady, you scared the life out of me!" the maid complained, hand on her chest, trying to calm her breathing.

Adelaide sat up in the bed, pulling on her cloak to help keep her warm as the cool air of the room hit her upper body.

"I am sorry, Mary. Who was at the door?"

"My Lady, it was one of the prince's servants. More are coming shortly with a bathtub and some warm water for you. There is a new dress, with jewelry to match, and new shoes. We must hurry."

Adelaide lowered her eyebrows in consternation as she thought of what this day could possibly signify; her face cleared in realization just as Mary declared, "This is the first day that your mourning is over, Milady. The prince expects you to break your fast with him in one hour. We must hurry," she added as she went to the door to let in the men carrying the bathtub, who were followed closely by many children with trenchers full of hot water and fragrant herbs, which were all deposited into the bathtub.

Once everyone was gone, Mary gestured to Lady Adelaide to come over by the fire. Adelaide deposited her cloak on the chair and shrugged out of her shift, shivering as the cold air hit her naked body. She climbed quickly into the tub and ducked her head under the water so that Mary could begin scrubbing her from head to toe. Too quickly, the bath was over and Mary was urging her out of the tub where the maid rubbed Adelaide dry and helped her into a clean shift. As Adelaide sat before the fire, Mary took her hair strand by strand and rubbed it vigorously with a towel to dry it, before reaching for a silver brush and running it through to make her hair soft and shiny and tangle-free.

The dress Mary reached for was emerald green and butter-soft; Adelaide's eyes went wide at the sight of it. It was the finest dress she had ever seen, including her wedding dress, and made her realize that there was no escape from this marriage—it was obvious the prince wanted her to look her best for her new fiancé. After the dress was on, Mary reached for a tie of interlaced gold and emerald cloth to pull Adelaide's light brown hair back with, setting it in place with golden combs on which emerald butterflies perched. A small, oval emerald on a gold chain with matching dangling earrings completed the outfit, except for a pair of tan kid boots.

Adelaide swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was not a vain woman, but as she stared at her reflection, she realized that, if he were a man of even normal appetites, there was no way Sir Guy of Gisbourne would turn her away at this point. Deciding to put on a brave face for now, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, preparing to go and meet her destiny.

* * *

In the hall, Guy sat next to the prince, his cynical gaze sweeping over the others in the room. He knew Prince John planned on announcing their engagement; if this bride tried to flee, he would kill her for the affront. He hated to admit that a small part of him looked forward to seeing her in something other than black. As she walked in, he sat up in his chair, standing as Lady Adelaide approached. He swallowed nervously, reaching for her hand and guiding her to the seat next to his. Before she could sit, Prince John arose and banged his cup on the table, calling for the attention of all those assembled. The buzz of talk died down quickly and the nobles turned their attention to the dais as the prince began to speak.

"My Lords and Ladies, many of you know of the tragedy of Henry of Mablethorpe, who died just over a year ago while serving my brother in the Holy Land. To lose one's husband is sad enough, but the fact that he died thousands of miles away only adds to the sorrow of Lady Adelaide of Mablethorpe's story."

Prince John looked around, making sure that everyone had noted the fact that while Richard was so very far away, causing Englishmen to die in the war, he, Prince John, was here, feeding them instead. _And bringing them together as well_, he thought before continuing his speech.

"It has taken much time for the lovely Lady Adelaide to mourn the loss of her beloved husband…"

Next to Guy, Adelaide nearly choked hearing the prince refer to Henry as "beloved".

"…but I, your prince, believe that life must go on and that new love can be found. That is why I asked you all here today, to share in the joy of my announcement that the Lady Adelaide has consented to become the wife of Sir Guy of Gisbourne, one of my most loyal knights. They shall be joined in holy matrimony on the first day of January."

The prince raised his cup, all the others in the room following suit. "To Sir Guy and Lady Adelaide!"

"Sir Guy and Lady Adelaide!" the throng cheered.

Adelaide was pale, but as she peeked at her fiancé out of the corner of her eye, she was surprised to find him blushing, seeming ill at ease with everyone's attention on him. They sat and the meal was served, but Adelaide found herself with no real appetite.

Guy watched his new bride-to-be idly pushing the food around on her plate. He leaned closer, whispering in her ear lest he be overheard.

"You look lovely today, My Lady. The green and gold suits you."

Adelaide shifted in her chair, trying to move away without being obvious; Guy caught the motion though, and his features hardened in anger.

"Thank you, My Lord. Prince John is most generous."

Her sudden reference to Prince John's generosity threw Guy off balance. He thought that she was speaking of the prince's bringing them together, so her subtle movement away from him had him baffled. He wondered if she had moved away out of a sense of propriety. She leaned forward over the table and spoke around him.

"My thanks, My Lord Prince, for the lovely new clothing," she smiled winningly at him, hoping to look grateful.

Prince John stared at her quizzically.

"I am sorry, My Lady, but what new clothing?"

It was Adelaide's turn to look confused. She gestured to her outfit. "These, of course, My Lord."

Prince John smiled. "Those clothes did not come from me, My Dear, but from your new betrothed. You do still love me though, don't you?" he pouted at her surprised face.

"Of course, of course, My Lord," she stammered, sliding her gaze over to Guy of Gisbourne, who appeared to be distinctly uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Lord Gisbourne," she murmured, shifting her gaze quickly to her plate and reaching for her goblet. She nearly choked on the sweet wine as Gisbourne's breath tickled her ear.

"When you are done eating, I should like very much to go somewhere and get to know my new bride."

Adelaide colored, thinking that he meant something untoward when he spoke of "getting to know" her. She swallowed the mouthful of wine, collecting herself in the process.

"My Lord, I do not think that would be appropriate…"

As Guy caught her meaning, he smiled, closing his eyes and looking down before letting his gaze rest on her face once more.

"I only meant that we should know each other better, not that we should do anything…inappropriate."

His bold stare made Adelaide uncomfortable and she suddenly found her appetite, wishing her plate were twice as large to stave off going anywhere with this man. She began eating, even though she couldn't really taste the food, taking small bites and chewing thoroughly, taking her time.

Guy watched in amusement and then in growing irritation as everyone else finished and left the hall, including Prince John. The servants had cleared away everyone's plates except for hers as she sat and ate slowly. Guy pushed his chair back and rudely slammed first one booted foot and then the other on the table, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her closely. She had winced at his show of aggression, so he knew she would be easily cowed if need be. He decided to test the theory, standing abruptly and looking down at her.

"You are done, My Lady," he declared, watching in satisfaction as she ceased eating immediately.

"Come," he held out his hand and she took it, her fingers like ice. "The day is chilly, but the sun shines. We will walk through the town."

Adelaide rose and went with him as the fear poured over her in waves. He was a powerfully built man; if it came to a fight, she would lose—as she had lost to Henry.

* * *

The day was cold, but clear, and Deirdre sat watching Allan as he practiced his swordplay with Robin. Allan had taken easily to the sword when Robin had first started teaching him years before, and now—at Deirdre's suggestion—he had decided to add a level of difficulty by learning to fight left-handed as well. It had been a long while since Robin had fought left-handed and the practice was good for him as well, helping to hone a skill long unused. The two men were sweating despite the cold temperatures and the occasional breeze that ruffled their hair.

Marian climbed up to settle on the roof of the cave next to Deirdre, who smiled at Robin's wife. The others were out hunting and gathering bits of wood for the fire, leaving the two couples alone at the cave. Marian adjusted her skirts, pulling them tight to block the breezes from blowing up them and freezing her legs.

"They're well-matched, don't you think?" she asked the older woman, nodding her dark head toward their husbands.

"Aye. Allan may not have been born noble, but he's a natural with the sword."

After a moment's silence, Deirdre spoke again.

"So are you carrying yet?"

"What?" Marian asked in astonishment.

"Are you and Robin going to have a child anytime soon? It'd be wonderful, wouldn't it? Our children playing together. Cousins, practically."

"Deirdre, in case you haven't noticed, we live in the woods. We're being hunted by sheriff's men. It's not exactly the best place or time to think about raising children."

Deirdre smiled wryly, stroking her stomach.

"In case you didn't notice, I don't exactly have control over that timing anymore."

Marian had the good sense to blush.

"I'm sorry. I know you're already having a baby, but I don't have to yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." Marian turned her attention back to the men, trying to change the subject. "Good job, Robin!" she called in encouragement.

"Tell me," Deirdre demanded.

"Robin would be so upset. He desperately wants a family."

"Tell me."

Marian remained silent, her gaze on the men as they fought. Deirdre looked back at the men, watching as Robin seemed to be beating Allan back toward the trees. She knew her man fought best with his back against the wall.

"How about a wager?"

"A what?"

"A wager. If Allan wins, you tell me. If Robin wins, you keep your secret."

"There's no way Allan can win against Robin!" Marian exclaimed in shock, amazed that Deirdre, a former noble herself, could even entertain the idea.

"Then you have nothing to lose, do you?"

Deirdre held out her hand to Marian to seal the deal and Marian took it. As Allan and Robin fought, the women watched with renewed interest. Deirdre saw Allan back up until his back was against a tree, watching the smile of triumph that spread across Robin's face and its reflection in his wife's face. Her own face mirrored that of _her _husband, looking desperate and frightened. That was, until he struck.

Allan came away from the tree, the sword like an extension of his arm, the sheer ferocity and speed of his attack driving Robin back until he fell to the ground, panting in exertion, glaring in consternation at the sword-point at his throat and the grinning thief standing to the side of him with one foot on his stomach to hold him down. Allan's gaze moved to the roof of the cave and he saluted his wife, bowing low like a player while she squealed in delight and clapped her hands.

"I believe you owe me a wager," Deirdre glanced over at Marian's pale face.

"You mustn't tell Robin. Please. It would kill him to know."

Deirdre nodded her head gravely in agreement. "Of course not."

"Nor Allan. I wouldn't want him to accidentally tell Robin."

Deirdre sighed in exasperation. Why did everyone think Allan was such an imbecile? He had lived for many years as a thief, having to use discretion to avoid the noose, and yet the gang often treated him as though he were the town gossip.

"I won't tell anyone. Unless you don't tell me. Then I'll make something up to tell Robin and you'll be in it. Now talk!"

"Queen Anne's Lace seeds."

"What?"

"Queen Anne's Lace seeds keep a woman from conceiving. I got them from Madeline, the morning of the wedding while you slept. I told her of my fear of having a child right now, that I was afraid for the danger you and Allan would be in when your child came…"

"You mean the danger our child puts everyone in," Deirdre supplied the details of Marian's insinuation.

Marian stopped for a moment, once again nonplussed by Deirdre's candor.

"You have to admit, one baby is bad enough, two would have been terrible." At Deirdre's furious look, Marian added, "Look, we're all excited about the baby, but if you could have put off having a child for a few years until things are settled and King Richard returns…"

Deirdre sighed. Marian was right. She was pregnant and there was no turning back, but it would have been safer for them all if she was not. She had admitted as much to them all when she had given them the choice on the road to Scarborough.

"Your secret's safe with me, Marian."

Marian got up and went to smooth her husband's bruised ego while Deirdre remained where she was, smiling down at Allan proudly.

* * *

Guy and Adelaide walked in uncomfortable silence. Guy was not a natural conversationalist, and Adelaide seemed disinclined to speaking any more than was purely necessary.

"Tell me of Mablethorpe," Guy asked, the question sounding like a command.

"It is on the east coast, My Lord, and has a port. It is a fairly good-sized holding, self-sufficient, and I believe its income will please My Lord."

Guy frowned. She had told him things he had already learned from Prince John. It seemed she was doing her best to keep him at a distance. It mattered little. Prince John desired to see them joined and so they would marry. He did not need the "friendship" he had thought he had with Marian, nor the laughter he had shared with Deirdre. She would be his wife and bear him sons to carry on the Gisbourne name. They did not _need _to like each other for that, but he found he wanted it nonetheless

Guy was just about to suggest that they return to the castle when Adelaide spoke. At first, he was not sure she had, as her voice was so low.

"Why do you want this marriage, My Lord?"

"I am grateful to the prince. Marriage to you will give me more lands and more money and therefore, more power. It will be a legacy I can pass down to my sons."

"Have you children, then?"

"No, but you will bear me children. You are still young enough."

"And if I told you I could not bear children?"

"Can you not?"

Adelaide blushed. "Henry of Mablethorpe was much older than I when we married, but not yet old. We were together for two years before he left on crusade. There are quite a handful of young men and women living in Mablethorpe who look much like Henry and yet, I never bore him a child. What does that mean to you?"

Guy turned to look at her, intending to make a sharp comment, but the vulnerability on her face caught him. He raised a hand to her cheek, watching her flinch slightly, but she still stood her ground. His blue eyes bore into her green ones.

"It means he was a fool and that he left too soon." Guy was surprised to find he meant the words.

Adelaide swallowed hard, caught for a moment in his gaze, and then wrenched her head away, walking swiftly back toward the keep. Guy caught up to her and as he did, she spoke again, never slowing her pace or looking at him.

"And if that is not the case? You wish for children. What if I cannot give them to you?"

Guy grabbed her arm, stopping her. She cried out and he dropped her arm like it was on fire.

"I am sorry. I meant only to stop you so we could discuss this. Are you hurt?"  
Adelaide refused to meet his gaze. "I think we should go back to the castle. There is much to do to…prepare. Please, My Lord."

Guy nodded, then gently put his arm on her back to steer her through the crowd as he realized she had not seen his nod.


	27. Chapter 27: Plans

Chapter Twenty-seven: Plans

Deidre sat on a rock inside the cave. The day was overcast and cold, and Allan had insisted that she stay inside so she didn't get sick. She stayed near the mouth of the cave, though, using the little bit of light from outside to help her stitching as she made some clothing for the baby. She slept a lot, exhausted all day despite a full night's sleep, but Madeline had said that was normal. She glanced over at Allan, who looked up from the arrow he was carving and smiled warmly at her. It never ceased to amaze her how lucky she felt that Allan A' Dale was her husband. He was the most practical, even-tempered, intelligent man she knew, and on top of that, he was so handsome he took her breath away.

Once in a while, she would catch one of the others giving Allan a hard look, like they were remembering his days in the castle working for Guy of Gisbourne and the sheriff, but all he ever gave them was his love and devotion. Every day, he did something to try to make up for his betrayal—any small thing he could do that saved one of the others some time or work—and yet it seemed they still were suspicious of him. No one dared say anything though, knowing that Deirdre would take their heads off if they did. None of the others were around, hunting either food or fuel, so Deirdre decided to broach a subject that often weighed on her mind, one she had spoken with her mother about on Brianna's recent visit.

"Allan, when the baby comes, things will be different."

Allan smiled, trying not to think of all the sleepless nights he knew were in store for them. "O' course they will, Luv. They'll be better."

Deirdre returned his smile. "In many ways, yes. Remember when I spoke of going to Scarborough?"

"Not this again. I told you, Luv, I want you with me. We're a family—good and bad together."

"That's what my mother said. She said Da is working on getting us pardoned," Deirdre added.

"You don't really think Prince John is going to pardon Robin, do you?"

Deirdre bit her lip. "No, I don't. But he might pardon a man who once worked for one of his men; one whose father-in-law he trusts."

Allan's eyes widened at her implication. "No, Deirdre. I won't betray Robin and the gang again."

"Can you be so certain? The baby will bring great risk to the gang. What if the sheriff captures me or our child or both of us? I'm not asking you to choose, Allan, but Vasey _will_. I just think that when the roads clear in spring, we should be on our way. We'll go somewhere far away, lay low and never mention Robin or Sherwood until my da has a chance to get us away or clear our name, or until the king comes home. You won't be betraying Robin and the others; in fact, you'll be making it safer for them."

Allan laughed mirthlessly. "Then why does even thinking of it make me feel like a heel?"

* * *

The castle was cold and damp, and Adelaide had decided that a walk in the fresh air would help her spirits to rise. She wished to explore the town a bit without being on her guard from Sir Guy. She put on her black woolen cloak and, with Mary trailing behind, stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. She walked through the market, stopping on occasion to pass a word or two with a merchant. She purchased another blanket for Mary and was just turning away, deciding that it was time to go back, when she ran into the ample chest of Sir Guy of Gisbourne. The sun was setting, the light haloing his head, and Adelaide shivered, unsure if it was from the cooling evening or Guy's presence. He was a handsome man, but Adelaide knew that people were not always the same on the inside as they were on the outside. Lord Henry had been handsome, if short for a man, with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Adelaide had found out the hard way that a demon lurked behind that angelic face.

Looking up at him, Adelaide carefully placed a small smile on her face. "My Lord Gisbourne. How pleasant to see you again."

Adelaide inclined her head to him, never taking her eyes off of his face as she assessed his mood. She was afraid he would be upset by their earlier conversation.

Guy's eyes hardened ever so slightly, and a flicker of what might have been suspicion crossed his face. He doubted that she was truly pleased to see him.

"I went to your room. You were not there."

"No, I was not. I have been shopping. Why did you go to my room?"

"I went to apologize." Gisbourne's answer was succinct and completely unexpected.

"Apologize? I don't understand. What do you have to apologize for?"

"I wanted to be sure I had not hurt you earlier when I grabbed your arm. I assure you, it was not my intention to cause you harm."

Adelaide stood transfixed in shock. Henry had never asked after her welfare, in fact, he had thrived on her pain and her fear.

Guy cleared his throat at her silence, startling her.

"I…I am well. Thank you, Lord Gisbourne. Was that all?"

"I had hoped…if you were well…I had hoped that perhaps since we are betrothed, you would accompany me to supper?"

Guy's discomfort confounded Adelaide. Here was a man who was tall, fit, and seemed used to command; yet with her, he seemed ill at ease. Behind him, Mary was nodding her head and pointing her eyes to Gisbourne. Adelaide squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"I am flattered, My Lord. I am not feeling up to company this evening, though I suppose the prince will command I attend nonetheless." As she started to push past him, the sound of Gisbourne's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Then you shall not attend. I will personally tell the prince you are tired from our excursion earlier. I will have supper sent to your room. Might I escort you there first?" he inquired, holding out his arm gallantly.

Adelaide took the proffered arm hesitantly and walked with him silently to her room. At the door, Guy bowed low, placing an innocent kiss on her hand.

"Sleep well, My Lady."

Adelaide flushed, at a loss for words. "Thank you, My Lord."

As soon as the door closed, Mary turned on her lady. Despite the difference in their stations, Mary was allowed a certain liberty. Mary was ten years Adelaide's senior, had been married to the same kind man for fifteen years, and had witnessed the horror that had been Adelaide's initiation into marriage. It was Mary who had cleaned wounds, set broken bones, rocked the frightened child to sleep during the two years before Lord Henry had left. Mary had cried nearly as much as her mistress had, tears of impotent rage over the fact that Mablethorpe treated the once-innocent young woman so poorly. Mary had suspected Lord Henry of being a beast, and sensed that Sir Guy of Gisbourne was a different man entirely.

"Are you _mad_?" she asked her mistress furiously. "That man is no Lord Henry, that's certain!"

"Is it? Lord Henry was kind and thoughtful when he came to collect me for our marriage. Once the priest had declared us man and wife, he turned into the monster he truly was. How do I know it will not be the same with Sir Guy of Gisbourne?"

Mary sighed, thinking of her dear husband, William, and how lucky she was to have such a good and kind man.

"You do not, I suppose, Milady. You do not."

* * *

In Sherwood, Will and Djaq sat on a granite slab, Djaq nestled in Will's lap. Djaq was freezing in the cool autumn air of England. She dearly missed home at this time, but Will's body heat helped.

"Tell me what Acre is like at this time of year," Will spoke softly into her ear, seeming to read her thoughts.

"It is warm still for one thing," Djaq answered ruefully.

Will smiled and pulled his cloak tighter around them.

"It is lighter, not so many trees, and the ocean is not far from my Uncle Bassam's home; the breezes make it cooler, the sound of the ocean is calming, and the clean smell of the water is invigorating." She pulled her head from the confines of their shared cloak.

"And the people bathe daily," she added, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Hey, I bathe every day. Now," Will argued, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Thanks be to Allah!"

Djaq dropped her head further to allow his mouth to reach hers, turning her body so that she could encircle his neck with her arms. As they broke the kiss, she asked, "So when are you going to ask me to marry you, Will Scarlett?"

Will still had his eyes closed, but they flew open at her question.

"What?"

"When are you going to ask me to marry you?"

Will blushed, the color reaching down his shirt as he struggled for an answer.

"Djaq, you deserve to have a life, a home, peace. When I can give you that, I will ask you to marry me."

"And if we never have that?"

"Then we will go somewhere that we _can_ have it."

"You know, Acre is nice this time of year," she hinted.

"Except for all that fighting still going on, of course," Will responded teasingly.

"Except for that."

* * *

Guy spent most of his days as he did every winter—honing the skills of both himself and his men in sword practice. He tried not to think of his impending marriage as he sparred with his sergeant. The man was good, and Guy focused on the task at hand, narrowly missing being skewered when his attention faltered. Guy turned back to face the sergeant, breathing heavily, his muscular arms flexing as he swung the sword in an arc with his right hand, daring the other man to come again with a wave from the fingers of his other hand. They clashed again, face-to-face, grunting with the effort; within moments, Guy had the shorter man on the ground, and was poised above him, sword tip at his throat. The sergeant yielded quickly, only breathing again once Guy had removed the sword and offered his left hand to help the other man up.

Guy walked over to the bucket which sat on a nearby stool and splashed his face, chest, arms and armpits with the freezing water it held, reminding him of Lady Adelaide. She was cold and distant, holding him at arm's length just as every other woman had, and it angered him. The only time they saw each other was at supper, and there the conversation was kept to nothings—the weather, the food, how each person's day had been. He had wanted to get to know Adelaide before they married, but she always managed to be busy or elsewhere when he came to call.

This morning would be different, if he had to track her down like a criminal. Guy pulled his black linen shirt over his head, shaking the water from his hair, and strode purposefully toward the castle, putting on and buckling his leather over-shirt as he went. When he came to Adelaide's door, he knocked belligerently on the strong oak, waiting impatiently for an answer. Just as he was about to knock again, her maid—_Martha?_—answered. Guy informed the woman that he was there to collect her mistress, and that she should dress for being out-of-doors. He waited edgily, arms crossed, just outside her door, looking for all the world like a guard rather than a suitor.

* * *

In the bedroom, Mary moved quickly. She had already stoked the fire in preparation for awakening her mistress and the room was beginning to warm up. She took the pitcher of water on the small table and poured it into a pot which she then put on the fire, and went to get Lady Adelaide. While Adelaide relieved herself, Mary checked on the water, pulling it off the fire and pouring into the wash bowl when it was warm enough.

Adelaide stumbled over to the bed again, where Mary helped her out of her shift and began washing all the important parts.

"Mary, what is going on?" Adelaide asked when she could gather her thoughts.

"My Lord Gisbourne is here. He demands your company this morning. I am to dress you for going outdoors."

Adelaide had stiffened at Mary's words, the last of the cobwebs disappearing immediately from her brain.

"Mary, you must tell him I am unwell, a woman's illness, anything. I do not wish to spend time with him."

"And what will you do when you are married to him?"

"My duty. No more."

Mary was still bustling around, collecting clothing for Adelaide, but her heart was filled with sympathy for her mistress. After the horror of her wedding night and the rumors of what happened in the bed of the Lord and Lady of Mablethorpe after that, after watching how Lord Henry degraded Lady Adelaide nearly every minute of every day, Mary could not blame Adelaide for being skittish. She also knew that there were good men out there; while she was certain that Sir Guy of Gisbourne would be a hard master, she had also seen kindness in his eyes, heard it in his voice when he spoke to Lady Adelaide.

"My Lady, I know it is not my place…"

"You are right, Mary. It is not."

"Then I will simply tell you that he has said he will not take 'no' for an answer. You are to be ready. He looked like he would brook no arguments."

Adelaide sighed in frustration, rising as Mary gestured for her to, allowing the maid to dress her quickly. As Mary opened the door, Adelaide quickly replaced her scowl with a smile, as Guy was just outside.

"My Lord Gisbourne. I give you good morning," Adelaide curtsied, hiding her emotions behind formality.

"Good morning, Lady Adelaide. I trust you slept well?"

"My Lord, I do not think it seemly that you ask about my sleep quite yet," Adelaide reproved, watching in confusion as Sir Guy's cheeks reddened.

"I am sorry. I did not mean…" Guy trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Lady Adelaide was an enigma to him, chiding him for asking about her sleep this morning after having said nothing about his wishes for her to have a good sleep the previous night.

"Will we be breaking our fast before we are to go out?" she asked ignoring his apology.

"No. If you are hungry, I will send to the kitchens for a bit of bread to be brought to us, but I thought we could break our fast…elsewhere."

"Elsewhere, My Lord?" Adelaide asked suspiciously.

He smiled lopsidedly at her, the smile that had brought many a maid to lift her skirts for him.

"You will see. Come."

He held out his gloved hand and she took it gingerly, allowing him to lead her down the stairs and out the door. The sun was shining brightly for a mid-November morning and the air was cold and biting. Guy led Adelaide toward the stables, noting that she was still wearing her mourning clothes under her cloak, even though the period of mourning had passed. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Arriving at the stables, Guy led her toward a beautiful chestnut mare, stopping by the mare's side. He put his hands together, interlocking his fingers to form a sort of cradle and bent low. Adelaide raised an eyebrow at him, looking from Guy to the horse and back again.

"Surely, you do not expect me to…ride, My Lord?"

Guy straightened, dropping his hands to his side.

"Can you not?" He felt like a fool, assuming she could ride; Marian and Deirdre had both loved to ride horses, so it had never crossed his mind that Adelaide would not know how.

Adelaide _did_ love to ride, loved the freedom of it, but Lord Henry had always insisted it was not "lady-like"; he had beaten her so hard the first time he had caught her, that Adelaide still feared riding, despite the fact that he was no longer around; she and Mary had ridden in a cart to attend Prince John.

"I have not, My Lord, since I was a girl."

"Then we shall go slowly. The mare is safe, very even-tempered, and I shall be by your side the whole time. Shall we?"

Adelaide allowed him to help her mount with trepidation. Butterflies danced in her stomach and sweat broke out on her brow, despite the cool morning. Adelaide watched in shock as Guy gestured for one of his guards to help Mary mount as well; she had assumed that Mary would be left here. Not only was Mary going with them, but two or three other noble ladies were there with their maids as well, waiting to ride out with their husbands and a contingent of guards. As they rode out of the gates, Adelaide stole a suspicious glance at her fiancé, who sat straight and relaxed atop his black destrier. _What was he up to?_


	28. Chapter 28: Nesting

Chapter Twenty-eight: Nesting

**A/N: Seems I wasn't paying attention to my history, folks. I had Lord Henry of Mablethorpe off in the Crusades for ten years—problem is, the Third Crusade, in which Richard the Lionheart fought, was only about three years long! Whoopsie! Have fixed this little faux pas—thanks, Linda, for the catch!**

* * *

They stopped the horses by a stand of trees on the banks of the Thames. Guy dismounted and moved quickly to help Adelaide down as well, glowering at her when she wrenched her arm from his grasp and strode quickly toward the others.

"My Lady!"

Guy's deep voice, booming with command, stopped her in her tracks. She stood with her back ramrod straight as she waited for him to catch up to her.

"I had thought we might enjoy our breakfast over here," he steered her toward a stand of evergreen trees, the cool air fragrant with the smell of the needles. Servants were already spreading a blanket and laying down bread, cheese, and watered-down wine. Guy held her hand as she lowered herself to the blanket, sitting with her legs to the side, her skirt covering her feet. Gingerly, he sat beside her, his right leg curled under the left one, his arm resting casually on the upraised knee of the left leg, and reached for a hunk of bread, breaking off a piece and handing it to her.

"Thank you, My Lord. My Lord Gisbourne, why are we here?"

"I should have thought that would be obvious," Guy answered. "I thought we should get to know one another."

Adelaide looked away uncomfortably, playing with the hem of her dress.

"Adelaide, you must always speak to me of what is on your mind." Guy's voice was pitched low. "What is troubling you?"

"My Lord… It's just…"

Guy took her jaw in his hand, his large palm engulfing her chin as he turned her face toward him.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Adelaide looked, and what she saw there confused her. She saw hardness, which she had expected, but also compassion and gentleness, which she had not. His blue eyes bore into her green ones, holding her like a caged bird, willing her to speak.

"My Lord, the prince has said we shall be married, and so we shall. I did not think knowing each other was required." Adelaide bit her lip, but too late, as the words had already escaped. Tensely, she awaited the beating she knew must come.

Adelaide's breath hitched in fear as she saw the anger reflected in his eyes; his gaze hardened and his nose pinched. He glanced at her clothing before looking away.

"I see." He released her face. "It is too soon. You still mourn Lord Henry. I apologize."

Adelaide would have sworn she heard pain in the rough edge of his voice. _But he is a man—surely he's incapable of such,_ she thought. As it was, she was so shocked by his proclamation that a giggle escaped before she could stop it. She sobered quickly.

"I am sorry, My Lord. That was most unseemly of me. I wear my mourning clothes very simply because they are all I have with me outside of the one green dress you gave me, which seemed too fine for traveling. I had not expected to be here with the prince so long."

Guy grinned gently at her. "That makes sense. As to your "unseemly" behavior, I rather thought quite the opposite was true. You should laugh more often. I confess, if I knew what I had said that so amused you, I would say it again. What was it?"

Adelaide blushed, and then the color drained from her face as he continued to stare at her, awaiting her answer.

"My Lord, you will think me horrible, an ungrateful woman."

"Let me make that judgment, Lady."

Adelaide spoke so softly, Guy could barely hear her.

"I do not mourn Lord Henry."

"You did not love your husband?" Guy cocked his head. Surely, even if it had not been a love match, Adelaide would have come to love her husband after two years.

"No. I would prefer to speak of something else, My Lord."

Guy's breeding took over and kept him from pursuing the matter. "Of course. What are your favorite colors, Lady Adelaide?"

"I…it is something I had not thought of for some time." Adelaide pondered, taking a small piece of bread, which had lain forgotten in her hand, and placing it in her mouth, chewing thoroughly and swallowing as she looked out at the bend in the Thames River.

The current moved sluggishly, the water nearly brown. She looked up, at the clear blue sky, then around at the bare branches of the trees.

"I suppose blue is a nice color," she put forth shyly, ducking her head, and putting another small bit of bread into her mouth quickly.

"Indeed it is. You see, it is not so hard to get to know one another, is it, Lady?"

Adelaide flushed. "We should be getting back, My Lord. I grow chilly."

Guy helped her to her feet, thinking how odd it was that she acted like an untried maid and yet had spent two years in a marriage bed. He hoped she would settle down once _he_ had bedded her.

* * *

Later that night, there was another knock on Lady Adelaide's door; she spent most of her time in her rooms, avoiding the company of the others—men whom she had no desire to be near and women who fluttered like annoying birds about her good fortune in being given to a man of Sir Guy's youth and handsomeness. They sickened her and made her want to scream, to throttle them for their foolishness. Sir Guy of Gisbourne was a man—she would have been better off had he been older, weaker, and closer to death.

When Lord Henry had left in 1184 to help the youngest Plantagenet, Richard, retain Aquitaine against his grasping brothers John and Geoffrey, who had been promised the region by their father, King Henry II, she had counted her blessings that he was gone. When he had surprised them all by staying in France to ingratiate himself with the Plantagenets and _not_ sending for his young wife, she had begun to breathe again, quietly studying reading and writing, claiming that she should be able to directly help Lord Henry more with the running of the estate. By the fifth year of Henry's absence—the year he joined in the "King's Crusade" to free Jerusalem—she had learned to read and write in Latin, French, Spanish, and Italian; she also spoke the four languages fluently.

The Crusades ended in 1192, and Henry sent a message claiming he would soon be home; along the way, he was caught in a snowstorm in the mountains of Germany. His mount placed a foot through the ice while crossing a river and threw Henry into the freezing water; he was rescued, but the cold and dampness had already invaded his aging lungs. When Adelaide—fearing Henry's return—had heard instead of his death, she had hardly dared to hope it was true, but soon his body had arrived home, and she had dutifully buried him. She had wept at the time, and most everyone had believed them to be the tears of a widow—tears of grief; only a very few knew she wept from relief. She had immediately dismissed his advisors, and hired new ones who knew nothing of her, her husband, or their lives. The past year had been the best of her adult life, at least, until Prince John had seen fit to give her to another man. Adelaide now sat before the fire, considering how she could possibly get the prince to change his mind when the knock sounded, startling her out of her reverie.

Mary opened the door to a gaggle of men and women bearing multi-hued cloths, thread, needles, and lace. They pushed their way in and began bustling around the room. Sir Guy entered on their heels, smiling lopsidedly at Adelaide.

"My Lord Gisbourne," Adelaide looked around her at the bustle of activity. "My Lord, what is going on here?"

"You will be here for just over a month until we are wed and then it will be at least two to three more months before we can make our way back to Mablethorpe. I thought that perhaps things would be…more pleasant for you if you had a full wardrobe."

"I…I do not know what to say. I am…"

How could she tell him she was shocked, suspicious, and apprehensive as to his motives? Henry had never done a kind thing for her in his life unless it benefited him somehow. What was Gisbourne getting out of this? Her cooperation went without saying—the prince had ordered the wedding; if she did not cooperate, it would be treason.

"…astonished," she finished lamely.

Guy frowned. "I had hoped you would be pleased."

"I am, My Lord, I am," Adelaide assured him quickly. "It is just unexpected, is all."

"I am glad you are pleased. I shall leave you now. They are to make you an entire wardrobe, whatever you desire. They are at your disposal, Adelaide."

Guy turned to leave, and Adelaide's stomach clenched. She hated it when he was so informal with her, it made her think of how familiar they would be in too short a time. She turned to the task at hand, so as to not offend her fiancé.

* * *

It was mid-December, and in Sherwood, the gang was divided. Most of the men had escaped to the relative safety of the woods, theoretically to hunt, while the women—and their one male victim—stayed at the camp, cleaning under Deirdre's supervision. It had all started earlier that morning as a light snow had begun to fall. Deirdre had been awake, her big belly pushing on her bladder and making it not only necessary to pee nearly constantly, but also uncomfortable to sleep. She had arrived back from one of dozens of trips she would make into the forest that day to relieve herself just as the first fat flakes had started to land on her head, the rocks, the trees, and the forest floor. Unable to sleep, she had sat just inside the cave, legs awkwardly akimbo in front of her, resting on the palms of her hands, and watched as the sun had slowly risen, hidden behind the fat gray snow clouds. She began thinking how beautiful the snow was, how pure and clean where it landed, and suddenly been struck by an overpowering need to get their little cave just as clean.

* * *

Allan had been having a wonderful dream. He was in his manor, a warm fire roaring in the hall, surrounded by beautiful women who wanted to serve Lord Allan in whatever way he required. He kept holding up a hand, telling them "no" that he was a happily married man, to which they pouted and kissed his cheek. Suddenly, the wind wailed like a banshee through the hall and the women scattered, screaming in fear. He came awake to find Deirdre standing over him, his blankets in a pile by the entrance to their chamber as she was complaining at him to roll off of the blankets that were still under him. He shivered and blinked, grabbing her hands to pull her close.

"Now, Luv, give me a chance to wake up an' I'll take proper care o' you," he grinned sleepily at her. He leaned his mouth up for a kiss, finding the palm of her hand instead of her lips as she covered his mouth.

"Ugh! Your mouth smells horrible! Get up so I can clean these blankets!"

Deirdre pushed against his chest as Allan nuzzled her neck.

"Well then, I'll just have to find somewhere more…interesting…to put my mouth for now, eh?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her, rolling her onto her back and beginning to unlace her pants. Deirdre sighed in frustration, not at all in the mood.

"Later Allan! It's too dirty in here!"

"Not half as dirty as it's gonna be," he claimed, pulling at her pants and kissing her belly.

"Allan! Stop! I mean it. It's filthy in here. How can you even think of sex?"

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but it's a cave and I'm a man. Of course I'm thinking of sex, and of course it's dirty."

"Get off of me! Now!"

Allan sat back on his heels, his good mood gone as Deirdre re-laced her pants and rolled over so that she could sit and then stand, pulling on one of the rocks to help her. He jumped angrily to his feet.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. What's wrong with _you_ that you can even think about sex when our baby is soon to be born and this place is so filthy? Now either help me clean it or get out of the way!"

Allan's jaw dropped. He started to say something, letting out a breath instead, and then grabbed his cloak and turned to stalk out of the cave. Much, Will, Djaq, and Little John sat on their haunches by the fire.

"Where are you going?" Much asked.

"Out," was Allan's short reply. At the cave mouth he paused, looking back. "You'll get out quick too if you know what's good for you."

"What do you mean? Should we get the others?"

"Save yourselves, my friends, Deirdre's in a…"

"Allan! Come help me with these blankets!" Deirdre's voice called from the back of the cave.

Allan's eyes went wide. "She wants to clean the cave! Get out now!" he hissed at the others before turning to run for the forest.

"Well, I don't see what's so bad about tha…" Much began as Deirdre came into view, blankets in hand.

"Where's Allan?"

"Gone," Will replied in his usual non-wordy manner.

Deirdre glared for a moment, then shrugged. "Will, go get me some water. How many buckets do we have? Djaq, do we have soap left? We'll need to get it if not. Much, we need scrub-brushes. Little John, have we a broom to sweep the floor? We have a lot of work to do if we're to get this cave properly clean, and all these rocks scrubbed down. Much, you get started on that side and Little John, you take the other side."

They all looked at her like she was simple; it was Little John who plucked up the courage to speak.

"Rocks?" he asked. "You want us to scrub rocks?"

"Well, how else are they to get clean?" Deirdre reasoned, turning to look around her, and then frowning toward the back of the cave.

"I'll just go and get Robin and Marian up. We'll need their help, too. Oh, and someone go find Allan."

As she spoke, the men had been giving each other wide-eyed looks, even Much looking worried as Deirdre muttered about "filthy rocks". When she turned around, they had slowly and quietly stood up, making their way toward the mouth of the cave. Djaq glared at Will, who shrugged and grinned at her. By the time Deirdre returned from waking up Robin and Marian, who had been just about to start off their morning right when Deirdre had barged in, the men were gone. Deirdre thought they had gone off to get water until she saw the buckets still sitting there on the floor.

"Where did they all go?" she asked Djaq. "We have a cave to clean."

"You know men," the little Saracen replied, frowning.

"I'll just go and fetch them, shall I?" Robin said, heading for the freedom of Sherwood.

"Oh, no you don't!" Deirdre grabbed him by the arm, placing a bucket in either hand. "You'd better be back soon, or your wife will be out of sorts with you for abandoning a pregnant woman."

Robin grinned his most charming grin at his wife, who simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, hurry back Robin," Marian nodded toward the buckets.

Robin's grin disappeared. "You can't be serious! How are we to clean a cave?"

"With buckets and buckets of soap and water," Deirdre replied, pointing toward the mouth of the cave.


	29. Chapter 29: Winter

**A/N: Thanks as always go to my wonderful beta, whatsthefracas! Check out her work--she can do so very much with a simple conversation. Please R&R--you know my poor ego needs your attention!**

Chapter Twenty-nine: Winter

Adelaide was receiving a tongue-lashing from Mary. She had sent back a gift that Lord Gisbourne had sent her—another in a long line of gifts. The man seemed Hell-bent on winning her over and Adelaide did not understand why. They were to be married—was that not enough? Why did he seem so insistent that they be friends, as well? She had already been granted an audience with Prince John; perhaps she could change the prince's mind and be rid of Sir Guy's attentions once and for all.

* * *

In Prince John's audience chambers, Guy waited in hiding as the prince had commanded. He did not know what it was the prince wished him to observe, and his brows drew down as Lady Adelaide was ushered in. _What is she up to now?_

He watched as the prince gestured for Adelaide to sit. She began playing with a loose string on her dress, one of the dresses he had had made for her. He made a mental note to speak to the seamstresses about the quality of their work and how that would be reflected in their payment.

"Well, My Lady, you asked for a private audience. What is it you wish of your prince that needed no prying eyes, eh?" Prince John smiled at her hungrily and Adelaide hesitated, afraid she had made a monumental mistake in coming here alone. She could not have brought Mary though, as the woman had become quite a supporter of Sir Guy.

"Your Highness, I would ask you to grant me a boon."

"We are listening."

"Your Highness, you know that I have the greatest respect for you…"

"Do you, Lady Adelaide? What a shame. Perhaps we can change that, eh?" Prince John rose from his seat and came out from behind his desk to stand behind Adelaide's chair. He placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging roughly, smiling as he felt her tense underneath his fingers.

"Perhaps I have made a mistake in coming here, My Prince."

Adelaide rose quickly and tried to leave, but Prince John caught her arm, swinging her back toward him. He held her in a crushing embrace, nuzzling her cheek and neck.

"It is never a mistake when a beautiful noble such as yourself wishes to please your prince. It is less than a month until your wedding. If the child your bear Gisbourne looks more like me and less like him…I don't think he'll complain, do you?"

Adelaide stood shocked at the prince's words, then began struggling for all she was worth. Prince John crushed his mouth to hers and Adelaide panicked. Her struggles became more frantic, and then she heard his deep voice, tinged with anger, behind her.

"My Lord Prince! I would appreciate it if you would release my fiancé."

Chuckling evilly, the prince let Adelaide go, pushing her toward Guy, who caught her in his arms.

"Sir Guy, you should keep a better eye on your bride-to-be. She was just about to lift her skirts for me, weren't you, My Dear?"

Guy closed his eyes, willing the rage away; surprised to find that Adelaide had not only _not_ moved away from him, but had snuggled closer to him, her back to Prince John.

"My Lord, I owe you allegiance, but Lady Adelaide is delicate and does not deserve to be treated like a common trollop."

Prince John smiled. "You are right, Sir Guy. My apologies. I had forgotten how beautiful the lady was, particularly out of her black clothes. Do you both still love me?" he added with a pout.

Guy swallowed, taking a moment to look down at Adelaide's frightened face.

"We do, My Lord. Might we be excused?"

"Of course, of course." Prince John pressed a gold coin into Guy's hand. "Go and buy the lady something nice, eh Gisbourne?"

"Thank you, My Lord."

Guy led Adelaide from the prince's chambers, his arm still around her trembling shoulders. Once they were sufficiently far away and alone, he turned her to look at him.

"What were you thinking? Why were you alone with the prince? Why was Mary not there with you?"

Adelaide looked up at his face and suddenly, for the first time in her life, was afraid of bringing hurt _to_ a man, rather than suffering _from_ a man. She felt low and despicable and knew that Mary was going to give her trouble over her behavior. Sir Guy of Gisbourne had been nothing but nice to her and she had repaid him with betrayal. She actually began to have a hope that _this_ marriage might not be so awful—if he did not hate her for trying to get out of it again.

"I am sorry, My Lord. I just wanted to ask the prince something, something I had no wish for others to hear."

"What?"

When she hesitated, Guy pushed her.

"Adelaide, you must always be truthful with me. What did you want to ask Prince John?"

"I am sorry My Lord, it's just that…Lord Henry was…and I thought you might be like him…thought all men were like him…and I, I…I was going to ask the prince one more time to let me out of the marriage contract. I see now that you are not like Lord Henry at all, not like other men. Please do not be angry with me. I was wrong. You saved me from the prince's lust. I will go willingly to the church, to exchange vows with you; that is, if you will still have me."

Guy had stiffened, turning to stone at her admission, wondering why women of nobility always seemed to be repulsed by him. He barely heard her last words.

"What did you say?"

Adelaide's lip began trembling. "I said I'm sorry, Lord Gisbourne. Please forgive me."

Gisbourne smiled awkwardly, wondering for a moment if the prince had set this little scene up to help him win his lady before dismissing the idea as inconsequential. Whether the prince had set up the scenario or not did not matter; what mattered was that Lady Adelaide seemed willing to trust him for the first time since their engagement.

"There is nothing to forgive, My Lady."

* * *

Christmas came, and with it, more gifts from Lord Gisbourne. Adelaide presented him with a black cloak of wool trimmed in ermine, laced with silver, and new black leather gloves. Guy, also thinking of her warmth and comfort, had presented her with a similar cloak, only hers was a deep emerald green, laced with gold. He gave her a necklace of emerald and gold as well.

* * *

At the cave, Allan had presented Deirdre with a bracelet of fine silver, beaten into intricate Celtic designs. He had sent money with Tuck when the friar had brought the message to Deirdre's mother, with instructions for Brianna O'Niall to choose something she thought her daughter might like. Brianna had also sent a small harp so that Deirdre might pass the winter with music. Deirdre gave Allan new boots of leather that she had carefully greased repeatedly to make them water-proof, and a new pair of gloves to protect his fingers from the cold.

Marian gave Robin a new quiver for his arrows; he gave her a new set of throwing knives. Djaq presented Will with a new wood-borer, and received a book of medicine from him; where he had gotten the rare prize, no one knew. Little John had his coat confiscated by the women, who spent the day mending it for him, and Much was not allowed to lift a finger, having all the cooking done for him.

* * *

The next week flew by, and before she knew it, Adelaide was putting on her wedding dress. She could not wear white, as she was no virgin, so she had chosen a light blue dress accented with sterling silver jewelry with sapphire stones. She wore no veil, her hair instead done up in intricate loops that were held in place by silver combs. Her slippers were a deeper blue, as was her shift. She stood still as Mary directed the other servants in preparing her lady. Adelaide didn't allow herself to feel anything, tamping down her nervousness while the servants fluttered around her.

"Breathe, My Lady," Mary whispered to her as the finishing touches were added and a knock sounded on the door. "It is time."

Adelaide let out the breath she had not known she had been holding, locking her frightened eyes to Mary's.

"Mary, I don't want to…"

"My Lady, Lord Gisbourne is a good man. He is not Lord Henry. All will be well, you will see. Come now, they wait for you in the church."

Mary moved to open the door, handing her lady off to the prince, who had decided to play the role of father for the ceremony. Adelaide put her cold, clammy hand into Prince John's and they walked slowly down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. The prince smiled benignly beside her as they entered the church and began walking down the aisle. The sudden warmth nearly made her swoon; the scents of the incense and the beeswax candles filled her nostrils. Pale light streamed in through the windows, fighting for life with the snow clouds.

Guy waited by the priest, his usual black leather replaced by more breathable linen but still in black. He had been this far before with Marian, and was nervous, hoping for a much better result with Adelaide. He knew that Adelaide had no choice, particularly with the prince at her side, and that she had claimed she would marry him willingly, but he still would not be able to relax until the priest announced that they were man and wife.

"Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?" the priest asked.

"I, Prince John, her benefactor, do," claimed the prince, beaming at the assemblage as he placed Adelaide's hand in Guy's.

The priest began intoning the ritual words which would bind them together for life, Guy and Adelaide repeating after him as directed. The sunlight gave way before the clouds and a soft snow began to fall, fat flakes landing and congregating on the window-sills, a chill breeze carrying some of them inside to land on the nearest object. The candles danced and sizzled under the slight assault, and then the priest said the words which had Guy releasing the breath he had not known he was holding.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. What God has brought together let no man put asunder. You may kiss your bride, Lord Gisbourne."

Guy took Adelaide's cheek in his hand and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, to the cheers of the assembled lords and ladies. He took her arm in his and walked her back to the castle, where the bridal feast awaited them.

* * *

Inside the castle, Guy took Adelaide's cloak from her and shook the light coating of snow from its surface, shaking the white powder from his at the same time. Her cheeks and nose were flushed from the sudden warmth; looking at her, Guy thought himself fortunate indeed. The silver combs held her light brown hair gently, allowing wisps of it to escape and frame her face. Her wide green eyes darted nervously around the room, her nose was pinched and her generous mouth was a straight line—until she glanced at him. When she looked at him, she smiled shyly; Guy could see that she was making an effort to appear calm for him and wondered what could have possibly happened with Sir Henry to make her so skittish. He dared to hope that her fear was brought on by Henry never having done his husbandly duty and that she was therefore frightened of lying with a man for her first time.

Guy helped Adelaide up the stairs to the dais and they stood to accept the well-wishes of their guests before sitting down to eat. They sat directly to Prince John's right; even for the bridal couple, the prince would not give up his place at table. The food was served—pig and cow, fish and fowl, pies, sweetmeats, and cakes, all washed down with wine and warm, spiced cider. The guests laughed and joked, the jests becoming more and more ribald as the night closed in and the wine flowed ever more freely. When Prince John started making insinuations about the droit de seigneuragain, Guy knew it was time to go. He leaned over and whispered in Adelaide's ear, watching it turn red from the heat of her embarrassment.

* * *

The fire crackled, warming the little cave against the first snow of the season. It was an inauspicious way to start the new year, as the wind howled and the snow covered everything, driving animals into their burrows and warrens, and keeping everyone inside. The day was dark, the sun even hiding from winter's cold lash. Allan lay leaning on one arm next to Deirdre, who was sitting cross-legged by the fire while she sewed another garment for the baby in an effort to stave off boredom. Rather than being bored, she was irritated, as she stabbed her finger once again with the needle. Allan's rapt gaze was also making her uncomfortable and moody, as his gaze moved between her chest and her belly. Sighing in exasperation, she popped her injured finger into her mouth, letting the other drop to her belly, as her lap was no longer reachable.

"What?" she asked belligerently, slurring the word around her finger, which suddenly became a focal point for Allan's gaze as she began sucking on it, trying to stem the bleeding.

A slow grin spread across Allan's face and his breathing became more rapid as he watched her. Her cheeks grew red under his continued scrutiny, particularly when he reached surreptitiously over and began to stroke the side of her thigh. The others had looked over at her exclamation, but now were going about their own business, mostly back to naps of boredom.

Allan leaned up and nuzzled her ear with his nose, gently tugging at her lobe with his teeth, and whispering suggestions best left to the middle of the night and privacy.

"Allan!" Deirdre whispered back in shock. "Here, in the middle of the day?"

"Why not? We've done it in the middle of the day before," Allan reasoned, sotto voce.

"But never in camp, only when we were alone."

"Where's your sense of adventure gone to, eh?"  
Allan's fingers continued to make small circles on her thigh; Deirdre wasn't sure if the butterflies in her stomach were from the baby or Allan. Looking down at her enormous stomach, she couldn't believe how lucky she was—she had a sweet, charming, intelligent, and handsome man as her husband, and in the next few weeks, she would bring their child into the world. She sighed contentedly and leaned her head down against his, turning red again as Allan repeated his earlier request.

Yawning and stretching obviously, she spoke out loud.

"I'm _so_ tired. Help me to the room, Allan." She gazed at him wide-eyed for a moment before nibbling on her lower lip and waggling her eyebrows at him. Allan grinned, glad that she was accepting his earlier invitation, and scrambled quickly to his feet, reaching down to take Deirdre's hands and help her up.

As they made their way to their room, the others grinned, and a few giggled at Much's _harrumph_, followed by his grumbled comment, "As if we don't know what they're going to do!"


	30. Chapter 30: Weddng Night

**A/N: This chap is all about Guy and Adelaide--hope you like! From this point on, there may be spoilers from S3--although some of the back-story stuff is my own invention and you'll have to see S3 to find out which is which.**

Chapter Thirty: The Wedding Night

Guy arose from the table and held out his hand for Adelaide, who took it, looking up at him fearfully. The talking in the hall died down to be quickly replaced by hoots and cat-calls and ribald jokes as they walked toward the stairs. His new wife was blushing badly and Guy smiled indulgently at her. He felt an overwhelming sense of victory, as he stared down at the bride who had not run away from him. She was quite pretty in the light blue dress, her hair tied back from her face, with sapphires glinting at her neck and ears. His breathing quickened at the thought of getting her upstairs and out of the dress. He wanted to lay his hands on her and make her his, to begin their family. He watched her hungrily as they neared their bedchamber.

Adelaide could barely breathe, and her legs felt like lead. She had held Gisbourne at arm's length for the last two months, but that would no longer be an option. Tonight was the night she had dreaded, the night he would turn from a charming man to a frightening monster. Guy had to nudge her gently in the back as he opened the door. She stood as still as a statue as he entered the room behind her, dismissed the maids, and closed the door. The sound of the door closing had Adelaide's breath coming in short gasps. She nearly jumped out of her skin when his hands took hold of her shoulders and his cheek brushed the back of her hair, his lips brushing her ear.

Guy gently turned her around to face him, noting with concern the tears falling silently down her cheeks.

"Am I so horrible?" he asked in confusion. Guy's breathing became more rapid at the thought that perhaps Henry _had_ ignored his husbandly duty to her.

"Of course not, My Lord Gisbourne," Adelaide answered him woodenly.

"Adelaide, we are man and wife now. You must call me Guy." He had not meant the words to sound like a command, but they had to Adelaide, nonetheless.

"Yes, My Lord…Guy," she responded.

Guy reached up and let the pins out of her hair, watching in fascination as it cascaded around her shoulders and down her arms and chest. He untied the closure on her dress and slipped it from her shoulders, watching her face as the cloth fell to the floor. Her nose pinched and her upper lip broke out in a sweat as she continued to stare straight ahead at his chest. Her fear slowed his movements, made him more cautious.

Guy backed away a bit and removed his own shirt, then sat to remove his boots and hosen. Adelaide refused to look at him; instead, she stood as still as one of his guards awaiting orders. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her gently to sit beside him on the bed, then crouched before her to remove her boots. He felt her stiffen even more as he tugged off her hosen. He looked up earnestly at her face, leaning forward to catch her chin in his hand.

"Look at me, Adelaide."

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and the fear she had been trying to hide was exposed. Guy thought again that she was indeed still a virgin, or maybe she was frightened because it had been so long and she had still been but a child when Sir Henry had left. He decided to give her a bit of leeway—for now.

"Climb under the covers," he commanded. Adelaide climbed under the covers, her every movement sluggish, as though she tried to put off their joining. He was reminded of the time, her first day out of mourning, when she had eaten so slowly to avoid walking with him. Her ruse had not worked then, it would not work now.

"Remove your shift," he ordered, watching in satisfaction as she complied from under the covers.

He removed his pants, and then his braies, slipping under the covers himself and turning toward his new wife.

Adelaide lay with her eyes closed, awaiting the inevitable. She had complied when he had ordered her to the bed, although she had been surprised he had allowed her to remove her shift from under the covers. She heard the rustle of cloth as Guy removed the rest of his clothes, and then the bed shifted under his weight as he climbed in beside her. She squeezed her eyes and bunched her fists into the bottom sheet as his hand reached over to pull back the covers.

Guy's breath caught in his throat; it had been so long since he had seen a woman fully naked. Usually when he took a woman, it was to bend her over, lift her skirts and get himself off, with nothing of seduction or love. Their marriage was not a love match, but he did not want the same thing he had with milkmaids and wenches at the inns.

He let his gaze roam over her body. He found that her breasts were the perfect size as he cupped one in his large hand, watching the pink nipple harden as his thumb stroked over it. She had not been eating much of late and her ribs were easily seen, particularly as she had inhaled sharply at his first touch and seemed to be holding her breath. Her stomach was flat and hard—he would see to it that she ate properly from now on. If she was to give him heirs, she must be healthy. Long, lean legs ended in soft feet, neither large nor small. He let his eyes feast on her, stopping when he came back to the juncture of her legs and the thatch of brown hair there.

Reaching out to stroke her, he felt her jump under his hand; he continued to run his hand along the little triangle, teasing one side and then the other. She whimpered as his finger found the tip of the triangle and eased between her folds, opening her body to him, searching for the barrier that he found—to his disappointment—was no longer there. Guy moved his finger out and then back in slowly, gradually feeling the moisture begin to gather which would ease the passage of his erection. Her lower lips stayed clamped on his finger as he pushed it in and out of her, increasing the pace; her hands stayed fisted in the sheet, her entire body tense despite his ministrations. She was wet, though, and that would make it more pleasurable for both of them.

He opened her legs, feeling her resistance as he lowered himself between them. His erection was throbbing so hard it hurt and all he wanted to do was bury himself in her over and over until he found his release, but he found himself unable to go on as her body refused to relax and the tears began rolling down her cheeks again. He lay on her, reaching up with one hand to brush away the tears; he was so close to entering her—one quick thrust and he would be inside of her lush warmth.

"I will not hurt you, Adelaide," he said to her, puzzled by her continuing unease.

Her eyebrows drew down and she frowned in consternation. Had she been some peasant woman, Guy might have plunged into her and found his release despite her fears, but Adelaide was a lady, and his wife. Suddenly, he thought of his mother and his father, of the love they had shared. He wanted that, desperately, and found that he could not just take her, that he meant the words he said. He rolled off of her, sighing deeply, and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

"You must trust me, Adelaide. I am your husband. Why would I wish to harm you?"

"Why would you not?" Adelaide replied, then stopped breathing, waiting for the beating she knew must come for her forthright tongue. He had been so close to entering her, and she had been prepared for his assault; his comfort perplexed her. _Why did he not thrust into me? Why did he not find his release? _Adelaide was sure he would now, taking her violently once he was done beating her. Instead of pushing her away so he could get more force behind his fist, he pulled her closer, stroking her back.

"A man should not harm his wife," he informed her, thinking once more of the example of his own parents, of the love and laughter they had shared before that awful summer when his father had returned home from the Crusades, returned from the dead as a leper to a wife who was in the arms of another man. Even then, Sir Roger of Gisbourne had not blamed his wife, who had thought him long dead. That summer however, had shaped Guy into a man for whom loyalty was all important, a man who believed you should be able to trust those closest to you.

The silence stretched as he held her, continuing to gently stroke her back and her arm, thinking of her words and of her apprehension.

"Your husband—he hurt you?" Guy spoke into the fading light as the fire in the fireplace died down; the tension that had been draining slowly from Adelaide's body returned immediately, answering his question before her words could.

"Henry was…strict."

"Tell me. All of it. The truth."

Adelaide swallowed, afraid to trust Guy, and yet he seemed so sincere. Besides, if history had shown her anything, it was that refusing a direct order from her husband would only lead to pain.

"Henry beat me. Often."

"What did you do to make him beat you?" Guy thought that surely she must have been disloyal or struck him or _something_ to have deserved being hit. Although he had never seen his father lay hands on his mother, he knew that every man beat his wife at some point if she deserved it.

"If I did not respond to his commands quickly enough, he beat me. If I looked him in the eye, he beat me. If I was not properly thankful, he beat me." Guy's silence gave her the courage to admit to him more than she would have normally.

Adelaide pulled away, needing to distance herself if she was to enlighten her new husband about the ways of her former one. She sat up, pulling the covers over her chest, playing nervously with a string on the blanket.

"I hated him and I am glad he is dead. I know I shall probably not go to Heaven for thinking such a thing, but you asked for me to tell you the truth. My husband was a horrible man."

Guy sat up next to her, the blanket pooling in his lap. His muscular chest and arms gleamed in the little bit of light that was left in the room, although his face was in shadows. "I do not agree with it, but many men beat their wives. That is not such an unusual thing that you should be thankful for his death."

"On our wedding night, he raped me."

"It was your wedding night, you were married, surely it could not have been rape." Guy sounded truly confused and Adelaide plucked up the courage to finish her story; if Guy beat her, then that would be the price to finally speak of Henry's atrocities.

"I was a child, just fourteen, and scared. He ripped the clothes from my body, threw me to the ground, and took me. His advisors were still in the room, watching, to ensure I had been a virgin. When he was done, he showed them the blood on my thighs, exposing me completely to them. I was terrified and tried to cover myself. He beat me then while his advisors stood by and laughed. By morning, he had taken me again, only…only…"

"Go on, Adelaide," Guy urged.

"That second time…" Adelaide turned away, hiding her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled when she spoke again.

"That second time, he took me in the way of men who like boys. I screamed and cried, begging him to stop, crying to him that it hurt too much, that it felt like he was tearing me in two. He ignored me completely, taking me harder until he was done, and then he beat me again for the "sin" of protesting. That was my life for the next two years. Every night and sometimes while the sun still shone. So yes, I am glad for his death. I am only sorry it did not happen before I ever met him."

Adelaide thought of the morning after her wedding night with Henry, when she had gone to the priest to make confession of her "sins" in begging Henry to stop. The priest—not understanding the specifics—had given Adelaide no absolution, informing her that it was her wifely duty to comply with _all_ of Lord Henry's wishes. It was only later, hearing the whispers of the maids, that she had learned how unnatural the things that Henry did to her were.

Guy sat, shocked. His uncle had seen to it that Guy's education included not only languages, history, and tactics, but a very thorough sexual education as well, wanting Guy to seem worldly. He remembered his disgust the first time he had heard of the "Greek practice", and he had even suspected that Sheriff Vasey enjoyed men in his bed as well as women, but the idea still revolted him. The thought that a man would use his lady wife in such a way horrified him beyond belief.

Adelaide stole a glance at Guy over her shoulder. He looked stunned, his brows drawn down, his mouth a hard line.

"You should have told me." His words were harsh, biting.

"I…I am sorry, My Lor…Guy. You are right. I should have told you this earlier, but I could not bring myself to say the words. If you wish to have the marriage annulled, I will understand."

Adelaide was actually a little bit afraid that he _would_ have the marriage annulled, and take her lands and monies as the price for her dishonesty. She had grown used to managing the lands, not having anyone to tell her what to do. She was afraid that she would either be turned out, or sent to a nunnery; after all her prayers for deliverance had seemed to go unanswered during her first marriage, she had lost her faith in God. With Henry's journey overseas to join the king and his subsequent death, some of that faith had been restored, but she had wavered again when Prince John had insisted on her marriage to Sir Guy of Gisbourne. The last place she wanted to be was with a bunch of women who believed in the basic goodness or men, although it might be better than being married.

Guy glanced quickly at her. He knew she had not wanted to marry him and now he knew why. If she had expected him to be the same sort of monster as her husband, her fears were completely understandable, if unfounded. He reached over to turn her back to face him.

"Annulled? Why would I want that?"

"Are you not disgusted by what Henry did to me?"

"Of course I am, and if the man were not dead already, I would gladly kill him with my bare hands. To use one's wife in such a fashion…" His brows lowered in consternation, and he reached a hand slowly over to cup her jaw. His gaze captured hers, held her locked in place. "I will never use you that way. You have my word. I do not take pleasure in the thought of your discomfort."

Gently, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the mouth, pulling her once more into his arms. Gradually, he felt her body relax, her breathing become slower and more even as she gave in to sleep.


	31. Chapter 31: Love and Rebirth

**A/N: Thanks to whatsthefracas for the beta help!**

Chapter Thirty-one: Love and Rebirth

Adelaide awoke the day after her wedding thinking that the whole thing must have been a horrible nightmare; she was alone in her bed and the spot next to her was cold. She rolled over, yawning and stretching to find Guy sitting at a table by the window, looking distractedly out of it at the sky. He wore only pants, his hair sleep-tousled, his muscles gleaming in the morning's light. At her movement, Guy looked over and smiled warmly.

"You should come have breakfast. I have had some food and warm cider sent up."

Guy indicated the still-steaming food on the table. When Adelaide did not move, Guy sighed and picked up a plate and a mug, moving to sit on the bed beside her.

"You must eat. You are too skinny by far. Sit up."

Adelaide did as she was bidden, pulling the sheets up to cover her still-naked body. She reached for the plate Guy offered her, placing a small bite of bread in her mouth. She was intensely aware of his gaze on her and her embarrassment flamed as the words she had spoken to him last night in the dark came back to haunt her in the full light of day. She chewed and swallowed the bread before she spoke.

"My Lord," she began, correcting herself at his look of censure. "Guy. I am sorry for last night."

His brows drew down in consternation, wondering what she could possibly be apologizing for now.

"What do you mean?"

"I am certain that you did not intend to spend last night listening to your new wife complain of her first husband and then fall asleep."

"No, I did not," he replied bluntly.

Adelaide reached for the covers, summoning up every ounce of her courage to move them aside.

"We could, My Lor…Guy…now."

Guy watched as her trembling hand pulled the covers off of her body, his breathing becoming more rapid as he stared at her full breasts and allowed his gaze to roam back down to the thatch of brown hair between her legs. Nothing would have pleased him more than to kick off his pants and finish what had been started last night—he felt himself hardening just thinking about it—but he had noted the fear in her voice, in her movements.

"Adelaide, I will not hurt you." His hand reached over to stroke her breast lightly before reaching for the sheet to once again cover her body.

"Come to me again only when you want to, not when it is expected of you, and I will show you that there can be pleasure in what happens between a man and a woman. Now finish eating. I will have you healthy."

Guy handed her the plate and the cup before roughly pushing away from the bed to stalk back to the window casement. When she was done eating and using the water closet, she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"I do not mean to sound like I am sending you away, My L…Guy…but do you not have things to do other than wasting time with me?"

Guy had fought for control of his body while she ate; at the sound of her voice, he pictured her once more naked in the bed and had to begin the battle anew. His voice when he spoke was rougher than he had intended.

"I have nothing better to do, Adelaide, than to spend time with my wife on the first day of our marriage. I would get to know you more, and I would not have the gossips' tongues wagging should I leave our chambers on our first day married; I would not see you shamed in that way. Tomorrow will be soon enough to return to my duties."

He turned to look at her, smiling warmly, stopped by the look of shock on her face.

"What is it?"

"I…I just…I mean, that is so thoughtful. Lord Henry would never have…"

"I am not Henry. I will not promise that I will not raise my hand to you during the course of our marriage, but rest assured it would not be over a trifle. And I will never misuse you the way he did."

He went to her, taking her cheek in the palm of his hand and looking seriously into her eyes.

"You will learn to trust me. Come, let's talk."

He led her over to the bed where they sat, leaning against the headboard.

"Tell me of your life at Mablethorpe—tell me everything."

At her uncomfortable silence, he added, "Start from the day Lord Henry left for the wars."

* * *

"Again? You would think that after all this time being married…and here she is nearly ready to have the baby…well, you would think, wouldn't you, that they would," Much gestured helplessly, "…not so much?"

The gang laughed at Much's discomfort as Deirdre and Allan snuck off to bed early yet again. Robin and Marian looked at each other like they wanted to beg off early as well.

"Don't be such a prude, Much. It's not like they're not married," Robin teased his friend, tearing his eyes away from Marian with effort.

"I know that. It's just, I mean, they've been married near a year, the baby's due any day now—is that normal?"

The others laughed. Little John shook his great shaggy head.

"I remember those days—not Alice's pregnancy, of course—but feeling like you couldn't get enough of each other."

"My mum and dad were like that until she got sick. Lukey and I would hear them laughing and whispering in the middle of the night, and every time their eyes met, they smiled as though they were sharing a secret. It'd be nice to have a love like that," Will put in, smiling warmly at Djaq.

"I wish my mother had been around long enough for me to notice if she and father were like that," Robin added, squeezing Marian's hand.

The others were quiet, looking into the flames as memories of old loves assailed them, either theirs or their parents'.

* * *

In their cave room, Allan and Deirdre snuggled close, trying to catch their breath.

"Tell me this won't stop, Allan," Deirdre begged. "I love you so much and I love being with you."

"Well, it's gonna stop for a bit after the baby comes if what Madeline says is true," Allan teased her.

"Don't be daft. That's not what I meant. It's just, I've seen so many people who have been married awhile and it's almost like they don't even know the other one exists. Mind, Mum and Da aren't like that at all!" Deirdre shuddered at the thought of her parents, who would closet themselves in their rooms for days whenever her dad returned from a long trip.

Allan chuckled, kissing her forehead. "I love you too, Deirdre. I'm sure we'll disgust our children as much as your parents disgust you."

Deirdre giggled and kissed Allan's neck.

"Lower!" he growled, laughing deep in his throat as she tickled his ribs instead.

* * *

Guy had spent the first two weeks of his marriage much the same way—at night, he slept next to his wife with never more than kisses passing between them; during the day, he worked off his sexual frustration by hard practice with the sword, and long days of hard riding to keep his stallion fit. He wanted Adelaide to come to him—or at least not push him away—but he was a man, and if she did not lie with him soon, he would be tempted to seek relief in a tavern, an event which would either tarnish her reputation or gild his.

Frowning, Guy stepped into the bedchamber after yet another day spent riding with his men. He was hot and sweaty, and not looking forward to another night of abstaining from his wife's body. Grumpily, he thought for just a moment of forcing her. He looked up, surprised to find a bathtub sitting in front of the fire and his wife standing beside it in nothing but her shift. Guy's breathing speeded up as his gaze roamed over her. The firelight reflected beside her, outlining her body so that she may as well have been wearing nothing. He tore his gaze away for just a moment to look around the room, noting the lack of servants.

"Where is everyone?" he asked hoarsely.

"I have dismissed them. I will help you with your ablutions, Guy."

Guy barely dared to breathe as Adelaide stepped forward and began to remove the leather jacket he had already unbuckled. He ducked his upper body down to help her pull his shirt over his head, and then sat in a chair as she knelt before him to remove his boots and his hosen. She bade him rise and Guy nearly fell back again as her nimble fingers brushed against his belly while she untied the lacings to his pants. His eyes burned the back of her head as she pulled off his braes.

Adelaide stood, the motion swaying her long hair against his painful erection, and led him to the bath, never raising her eyes to look at him. Guy stepped in and sat; Adelaide pushed gently on his head to make him duck below the surface so his whole body would be wet. Guy did his best to relax, realizing it was completely impossible as her hands began soaping up his hair and his body, particularly when she reached down to clean between his legs, although she never quite touched him where he wanted her to, her fingers and the cloth running along his thighs instead. She rinsed him free of soap, and then grabbed a towel as Guy stood, his naked body glistening in the firelight.

Adelaide sucked in her breath as she caught her first real glimpse of Guy's completely nude body. She knew the man was impressive in all ways that a man could be in the public eye. He was tall, broad of shoulder, narrow of waist, with long legs and muscular arms. His black hair, blue eyes, and sharp, Romanesque features had turned many a girl's head. Her gaze traveled to a more private region, her eyes widening and her resolve faltering. From her memories, Henry had not been nearly so large, and he had always hurt her. Of course, she had felt Guy pressing up against her on their first night, but she had not known his size for sure; even when she had stripped him for his bath, she had avoided looking at and touching him there. She knew she must follow through, though, despite her suddenly returned fear; Guy had been nothing but kind and gentle with her and did not deserve to be turned away yet again.

Guy ducked his head as Adelaide reached up to towel his hair, face, and neck dry, gradually working her way further down, moving behind him to get his back and buttocks dry. She knelt before him again to dry his legs, then very gently reached for his manhood. Guy hissed as she softly rubbed him dry. Unable to stand the wait any longer, he grabbed her by her wrists and pulled her to her feet.

"Drop the towel," he commanded, backing her to the bed.

Quickly, he lifted her shift up and over her head, and bent to kiss her mouth, gently but urgently. One arm wrapped around her, holding her tight; with his other hand, he gently teased her nipple, smiling wickedly as she sighed and dropped her head back in pleasure. He laid her on the bed, continuing to explore her body as he stroked and licked the anxiety out of her.

Guy nuzzled her ear, gently sucking on the lobe before taking it carefully in his teeth.

"Adelaide," he breathed her name in her ear, the sound sending shivers down her spine. Lord Henry had never spoken her name, choosing instead to call her degrading names whenever he took her. Skillfully, Guy moved lower, laving one breast while he teased the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Adelaide moaned and writhed under his ministrations, arching her back when he began suckling her nipple. Guy's eyes were closed in bliss as he pulled her breast into his mouth, teasing her nipple with his tongue. He sucked harder, and Adelaide cried out, moaning his name. She felt odd little ripples move across her stomach and her hips bucked desperately as her body begged for his to fill it. Guy obliged by slipping a finger into her smooth, wet warmth, easing it in and out of her until she cried out again, grinding her hips against his hand. Her body lost control, and for a moment, she was out of time as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her body. Sex with Henry had _never_ been like this.

Crawling over her, Guy lay between her legs, his erection throbbing at her entrance.

"I hope you are sure, because I do not think I can stop this time," he whispered against her mouth. Gently, he began to push into her, waiting while she adjusted to his girth before slowly sliding the rest of his length into her, stopping only when he was fully couched inside of her, reveling in the feel of her body widening to accommodate him.

Adelaide lifted her legs, crossing her ankles and resting them on the small of Guy's back, shocked by how good he felt inside of her, and by the pleasure he had already given her without his manhood even being in her. Her arms reached up to wrap around him as he slowly pulled out of her body, pushing back in just as steadily.

Adelaide bucked beneath Guy, urging him on, surprised at her own brazenness. After the horror of what Lord Henry had put her through, she could not believe how pleasurable it was to lie with Guy. She almost felt silly for the fear that had kept her from being a proper wife to him for the last two weeks.

While she moaned and writhed below him, Guy withdrew from her again, gratified to feel her legs clamp tight, pulling him back into her; gradually he increased the pace until he was slamming into her, his hips pistoning against hers while he grunted in pleasure. He thrust harder, faster, and somehow deeper on each stroke while Adelaide's hips rose to meet his, her breathing ragged as she begged him for more. He felt her inner walls begin to flutter, and he buried himself, crying out in triumph as he filled her belly with his seed before collapsing onto her, his body spent.

Adelaide could not believe what she was feeling. Guy lay atop her, carefully holding himself up so as not to crush her, his manhood softening inside of her. Instead of feeling dirty, degraded, sore, and used, she felt cherished. Instead of wanting him to roll off of her so she could curl up in a ball and cry herself to sleep, she wanted Guy to hold her close. As if he had read her thoughts, Guy rolled off of her, pulling her to him and nuzzling her hair.

"Thank you, Addy," he whispered.

_Addy_, she smiled to herself. No one had called her Addy since she had been a child, and even then, her mother had been careful to only use the pet name when Adelaide's father was not around.

"Thank _you_, Guy. I did not know it could be like that." Closing her eyes, she fell asleep almost instantly, cradled in her husband's arms.

* * *

**A/N: So Addy's learned to trust Guy now--or has she? Please R&R--love your feedback!**


	32. Chapter 32: Love's Labor

Chapter Thirty-two: Love's Labor

Guy had awoken, as was his habit, as the sun began to peek into the bedroom. He sat at the table clad only in his pants and hosen to ward off the chill of the January morning, relying mostly on the fire Mary had stoked to keep him warm outside of the bed. He was more relaxed than he had been in what seemed like—and probably was—years. He leaned back in one chair, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile playing on his mouth; his feet, which rested on the second chair, were crossed at the ankle. He watched Adelaide through hooded eyes as she slept, noting how her posture had changed over the weeks. On their wedding night, he had kept her pulled close to him, his arms around her; as soon as he had left the marriage bed in the morning, she had curled into herself, her arms up in front of her face, her legs bent with one behind her, its heel nearly touching her bottom, the other knee drawn up to cover her sex. He had watched in consternation at the time before covering her once more with the blanket. Since that morning, he had noted that—if left to her own devices without him pulling her in close—that was how Adelaide slept. It put him in mind of a child who was trying to defend itself. Over the nights since their wedding though, she had seemed to unfold, like a flower unfurling to meet the sun; now she lay on the bed with her hands beside her pillow, one hand under it. He could see the outline of her legs, bent only slightly under the covers with one foot hanging outside the blankets. She moved restlessly on the bed where before she had not moved on the bed at all, at times making him fear she was dead with her stillness.

He smiled as her eyelids fluttered and she gazed at him evenly before tentatively returning his smile. Guy got up and moved to the bed, thinking that the men would be fine without him for another day.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Adelaide had decided to give herself fully to Guy; every day, it was an effort for him to tear himself away from their bed in the morning. Once she realized that he did not want to hurt her, but rather to pleasure her, Guy had found that Adelaide was a willing companion in his bed. While she was still shy and was never the one to initiate their pleasures, she gave herself over to him quickly whenever he started to kiss her. Soon, they would leave for Mablethorpe and truly begin their life together, but first, Guy wanted to go to Locksley, to ensure his holdings would not cost him in his absence. Unfortunately, it would also mean a visit to Nottingham and its odious sheriff, but he would try to keep contact between Vasey and Adelaide minimal.

* * *

Allan was exhausted. His sweet, pretty little wife, the soon-to-be mother of his child, could not seem to get enough of him lately. He had always dreamed of having a woman who was so uninhibited, whose sex drive rivaled that of a man, but the dream was fast becoming a nightmare; all Deirdre seemed to want lately was to sleep and to lie with him. He had taken to feigning sleep whenever they were alone, and sneaking out of their bedroom as quietly as possible in the mornings lest she insist upon his services again. Even if he were the type to talk to the lads about his "problem," he would receive no sympathy; he had heard them laugh at his protestations on many occasions when Deirdre had literally dragged him to their bower. Now he did his best to keep his breathing rhythmic, even opening his mouth to snore loudly as he heard her rustle the blankets next to him and felt her lower her body into their bed.

"Allan, wake up!" she whispered loudly in his ear. It became hard to feign sleep as her hair fell onto his face, tickling his nose and making it twitch. Deirdre shook his arm.

"Wake up!" she demanded again, sounding a bit more frustrated this time.

Allan continued to snore and Deirdre sighed noisily. She leaned over and began nibbling on his ear, scraping her teeth along the lobe and sucking on it. Allan felt his cock begin to harder as he thought of how wonderfully she sucked on things. Desperately, he snorted and batted lightly at her face as though he was chasing away a fly, and then rolled over, putting his back to her to try to escape her grasping hand which had been seconds away from finding his body's reaction. Deirdre ran her fingers lightly up his back, starting just below his ass and stopping at his shoulder as she leaned back over him to kiss on his neck.

"I guess I'll just have to relieve myself, then. Shame your so tired, Allan; I would've much preferred having _you_ inside of me than my own fingers."

Allan's eyes flew open and he began to sweat. His cock hardened painfully and his balls tightened; it was impossible to keep his breathing even as he pictured Deirdre taking care of herself. _Maybe just once_, he thought to himself, _then I can go to sleep for real_. He yawned and rolled over, blinking sleepily.

"Did you say somethin', Luv?"

Deirdre had her back turned to him now.

"No. Go back to sleep," she whispered. She smiled to herself, knowing Allan had been faking sleep, and that her words had had him changing his mind about lying with her. Allan looked non-plussed for a moment before grinning and joining in the game. Lightly, he stroked her arm, leaning in to kiss her neck; for some reason, kissing her there always sent her over the edge. He ran his hand down to her thigh as her breathing became more rapid and his teeth scraped over her pulse, making her breath hitch.

Normally, they both slept naked so that they would not be cold in the morning when they got out of bed. Allan had taken to wearing his pants to bed of late, though—a feeble attempt at protecting himself from his wife's eager attentions. In moments, he had pushed the material off of his body and out from under the covers. He snuggled close, molding his body to hers, his hand sneaking between her legs to find the warm wet center of her. He heard her gasp as his finger slipped into her, his thumb rubbing her nub. He slipped the finger out of her only to replace it with two fingers, stroking them in and out evenly as she wriggled her bottom against him, mewling in pleasure.

"Is this what you was gonna do to yerself?" he breathed in her ear. "Naughty wife! Dontcha know it's a sin? I should punish you to save yer soul for you."

Deirdre felt a shiver of anticipation roll over her spine and her lower lips contracted around Allan's fingers.

"You really are a naughty girl, aren't you? You like the idea of me punishin' you, dontcha?" Allan removed his fingers and Deirdre protested; lightly, he spanked her bottom and then rubbed it gently in a soothing circular motion before spanking her again. Deirdre cried out softly in indignation, but made no effort to move away, pushing against him instead, trying to couch his straining cock in her body.

"Uh uh uh. Not yet." He grinned and rolled her onto her back, where she looked a bit like a chubby turtle that was unable to find its legs. He leaned over her, grinning as he kissed her, knowing she felt a bit foolish in this position _because_ it was so hard for her to rise. He pulled her the rest of the way over until she was on her side facing him, and then began making love to her face and neck, kissing, nipping, licking, and sucking as he went. He knew it would drive her crazy, but he was determined that she would sleep when they were done, and then so could he.

He nipped the side of her mouth and then licked it as she parted her lips for the kiss he never gave her. He could hear her panting against his neck as he leaned up to feather kisses over her eyebrow and her eye before making his way down to her delicate ears. He tugged on a lobe, drawing it into his mouth to suckle on it insistently before diving his tongue into her ear, thrusting it in and out as he planned to do later with other parts of their anatomy. He pushed his fingers back inside of her, easing them in and out in time with his tongue in her ear. Before long, he heard her soft cries as her body writhed against his, and watched in satisfaction as her torso and limbs went stiff, and then collapsed from her release, her body spasming around his fingers.

"Did you like that, Luv?"

"Allan," she panted, "that was…amazing."

"Good." Allan grinned at her before he removed his fingers from her and began trailing kisses lower and lower along her body. He stopped at her breasts, and then pushed her gently back onto her back, hitching his body up for better access. He cupped her right breast lovingly in the palm of his left hand, watching in fascination as the milk began to leak from her rosy nipple. He traced his thumb over the nipple, gathering up the milk, and then placed his thumb into his mouth, sucking the liquid off. Allan watched Deirdre's eyes go wide with passion, and then he put the wet thumb back onto her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, gently squeezing the breast at the same time.

Deirdre's eyes closed as she gave herself over to the feelings. It had been horribly erotic watching Allan suck her milk from his thumb; she desperately wanted him inside of her now, but it seemed he was determined to take his time. She felt more milk leaking from her breast as Allan massaged her nipples, then bent his head to lap it up, his tongue laving her before he clamped down and began to suckle. She whimpered as he switched to her other breast, his fingers continuing to milk her right breast. He released her breast from his mouth and Deirdre shivered as he blew on the wet flesh before clamping down on it once more, suckling even harder than before. Deirdre felt like he would drive her though their blankets and into the ground from the force of his face against her breast. It should have hurt, but it did not, the near-pain only serving to drive her passion further. She felt her belly contract once more, her nether lips weeping with joy as he suckled her into another orgasm.

Allan's fingers traveled lower, seeking her warm core again. He growled in satisfaction at finding her entrance slick for him still; he eased two fingers into her, then three, pushing them in and out of her slowly, driving her over the edge. He picked up the pace as her hips thrust at him, her lips clinging to his fingers with every release, then opening for him as he pushed them back in. Her breathing was ragged now, and little cries of passion kept escaping her mouth. Her eyes glazed and her body tightened again, holding and clamping down on his fingers as he drove them relentlessly into her.

As her body relaxed once more, his mouth released her breast and he moved to open her legs, kneeling between them and holding her knees to his hips, tilting her body up to allow him access. He glanced down at her soft feminine core, the lust rising in him even more as he saw the dew dripping from her petal lips. There was no thought of exhaustion now as he opened her body up to him, holding her knees in place with his elbows. He watched the anticipation light her eyes and thanked God once again for giving him such a beautiful, intelligent, strong, loving woman for his wife.

Deirdre looked up at Allan, on his knees between her legs. He was so very handsome—the light from their small fire-pit glanced off of his blue eyes, which had gone dark with passion; she watched those eyes close briefly, marveling at the absolute perfection of his almost feminine eyelashes as they rested atop his cheeks. His eyes opened again and he smiled at her—the soft, sexy smile that he reserved for her alone, the one that spoke of shared intimacies, both past and future. His arms encircled her knees, and she could see the muscles in them flexing as he held her legs in place; despite the weather, he worked out every day with swords, throwing knives, and arrows. She glanced down to his strong chest and narrow waist, defined by both his exercise and a lack of ready food in winter. His manhood stood out, hard and throbbing, from the nest of curls between his legs. Slowly, so slowly he almost didn't move, he pushed the head against her and slid his length into her, stopping when his pelvis met hers. She closed her eyes in sheer bliss at the feeling of him filling her up.

Grabbing her hips, he gripped her tightly as he pulled out of her, smiling at her again when he looked down to see the naked need in her eyes. He kept up the slow pace, pushing himself in and pulling out, in then out, watching her face as she licked her lips, then bit the bottom one, her face contorting with desire as she begged him to go faster.

"I don't think so, Luv. How are you to learn your lesson if the punishment ain't memorable?" he teased, reaching down to tickle her clit, making her yelp and giggle as she tried to escape the tickling without bouncing him off of her at the same time.

"Allan, stop!" she begged, trying to catch her breath.

"All right, if you insist."

Allan stopped moving his hips with most of his length out of her, grinning evilly as she began to whine.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Allan A' Dale! I meant stop tickling me!"

Deirdre writhed underneath him, thrusting her hips at him as she tried desperately to get him back inside of her.

Allan held her tightly by her hips, keeping her from engulfing his length until her pouting began to turn into outright indignation. Just as she was about to become truly angry with him, he thrust himself fully into her, burying himself all the way. Deirdre cried out in relief, moaning as Allan levered himself in and out of her, faster with every thrust.

She reached for his waist, but could only get as far as his forearms, feeling the muscles flex beneath her fingertips as he drove into her relentlessly, pulling her body toward him as he thrust his toward her. Once more, her body contracted, the muscles tightening as she clamped down on him while he buried himself in her, throwing back his head and groaning as he filled her body with his seed. He held her there while shudders wracked their bodies and their breathing began to return to normal.

"Now will you let me sleep?" he asked huffily, lowering her hips back to the blankets and raising an eyebrow in perplexity as she whimpered when he withdrew from her.

"If I must," Deirdre sighed and rolled over onto her right side, wiggling up against Allan as he lay on his side next to her; she was asleep almost immediately. Gently, he stroked her belly before covering them both with the blankets again. He leaned in to kiss her shoulder blade before lying back down and closing his eyes with a contented sigh.


	33. Chapter 33: The Storm

**A/N: Thanks to my midwife friend, Linda, for the research help!**

Chapter Thirty-three: The Storm

Deirdre awoke to cramps wracking her belly. She thought nothing of it, rolling out of her bedroll to go relieve herself and help Much with breakfast. He nodded sleepily to her as she passed him to go outside into the cloudy morning.

"It'll snow today, I'll wager," he informed her as she re-entered the cave.

She grimaced as she knelt by the eggs and began to beat them, while Much put the last of the bacon in the pan to fry.

"It sure does smell like it, that's certain," she responded.

Much heard the edge of pain in her voice. "What's the matter?" he asked nervously.

"I'm fine. Just some pains in my belly is all."

Much stared at her in horror, eyes gone wide.

"Pains?" he stammered. "In your belly? Oh no no no no no no no. It…it's not…I mean is it…?" he gestured meaningfully at her stomach. Not waiting for an answer, he continued nervously. "Should you be…? I mean, I should probably…" He reached for the bowl of eggs, but she turned away from him, continuing to stir.

"Much, relax. It's nothing."

Much looked at her disbelievingly as she grimaced again, biting her lip and exhaling loudly, her eyes closed. Much knew from living with her for so long, that Deirdre was not the type to react to pain unless it was bad. Once, she had burned her hand on the pan when the rag they used to take it off the fire had slipped. She had yelped once, hissed, then frowned in displeasure before wrapping the rag around the handle and once more grabbing the pan. She had spent a bit of time later by the stream, trailing her hand in the cool water, but that had been the end of it. Often, he would ask her about this or that scratch or bruise, and she had no memory of its origin. Deirdre biting her lip on and breathing against pain had Much worried.

As if sensing his concern, Deirdre looked up, casting her blue eyes at him and smiling reassuringly. As Much went to turn away and check on the bacon, he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye as Deirdre winced in pain once more, clenching her teeth.

"That's it!" Much jumped to his feet, running toward the back of the cave to rouse all of the inhabitants. "Everybody up! The baby's coming! Everybody up!"

Almost in the same breath, Djaq was by Deirdre's side, her dark eyes gone from sleepy to alert at once. Allan stumbled out of their room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, grouching at Much to get off of him and to stop shouting.

"Deirdre's having the baby!" he shouted in response.

Instantly, Allan was on alert.

"Where is she? Where's Madeline?"

Much pointed to where Deirdre sat by the fire looking at everyone as though they had lost their minds.

"Much, I told you, I'm fine. It's nothing. Just a bit of a…" she paused, dipping her head down and gritting her teeth, "…cramp!" she managed after a bit.

Robin and Marian entered the scene of confusion; Will and Little John hovered by the door, Little John hoping his services would not be once again required in birthing a baby. Djaq sat by Deirdre, rubbing her back. Much and Allan stood staring wide-eyed, hoping the situation would just mend itself, Allan's usual pragmatism gone for the moment.  
"What do we do?" Marian asked nervously. She had had the training from Madeline just as Djaq had, but this was the first birth she had ever been directly involved in, and she knew only the basics about medicine to begin with.

Robin had not seen births, but much blood and death; he was calm in the face of the situation.

"First, we move her back to her room so she does not have the lot of us staring at her. Allan, you go…Allan!" Robin repeated as Allan stood stock-still, like a deer afraid that movement would alert a hunter. Allan shook his head, turning to look at Robin.

"Allan," Robin repeated more softly this time, "you and Will go and fetch Madeline."

"Why Will? Why can't I go?" Much asked in desperation.

"Because we need you here," Robin answered simply, moving to pick Deirdre up and gesturing for John to help as Allan and Will quickly dressed for the gathering weather and bolted from the cave.

"Allan!" Deirdre cried, stopping her husband dead in his tracks and making him turn toward her. "Hurry back!"

Allan grinned his cheekiest grin. "You know me!"

"That's why I told you to hurry. So why're you still standing there?" she demanded. Allan spun back around, and he and Will ran for Madeline's just as the first fat snowflakes began to fall.

Little John and Robin walked Deirdre back to the chamber she and Allan shared.

"What shall I do?" Much asked, needing direction.

"Finish cooking breakfast," Djaq commanded. "We will all need our strength, especially Deirdre."

Much nodded mutely and turned back to the nearly burned bacon to remove the pan from the fire. Carefully, he took out the bacon, letting the grease drip off of each piece before laying it on the plates, then turned back to finish the eggs. Once the eggs were done, he scooped them onto plates as well before tearing off hunks of bread to place with the eggs and bacon. Little John and Robin had come back just as he was finishing the eggs, and Much handed each of them their plates before swallowing noisily and glancing toward the back of the cave where the women were.

"I'll just go and bring this to the girls, shall I?" he asked of no one, expecting no answer as he rose and picked up the women's plates.

Robin and Little John nodded mutely, sharing a conspiratorial grin as Much made his way haltingly toward the women. He stood off to the side of the opening for a moment before calling out.

"Is everyone decent? I have food."

Inside, the women smiled broadly at one another.

"Yes, Much, we are 'decent'," Djaq answered.

"Wait! Let me put my clothes back on!" Deirdre called out, just as Much began to enter the room.

Much's eyes went wide and he nearly dropped the plates; Marian ran to catch them, chiding Deirdre for her joking.

"Will you have our food on the ground, Deirdre? It's all right, Much. Deirdre's only teasing—she is dressed."

Much glared at his tormentor before puffing up his chest with self-righteous dignity. He was just about to tell her how truly awful she was to tease him so when a contraction hit her and her face scrunched up in pain. Much's own face lost all color and he quickly exited the room as Marian took the plates.

"You see?" Djaq told her, holding her hand and stroking her back to help ease the cramping. "That is what you get for being so mean to poor Much."

"When poor Much is in here trying to pass a cucumber through his…"

"Deirdre!" the other women both exclaimed, as always shocked by her forthrightness.

"Then we'll talk about mean," Deirdre finished with a sigh as the pain eased up.

"Eat your breakfast," Djaq ordered. "You need your strength if you are to torment people while giving birth."

The two women grinned at each other, but Deirdre did as she was told, laying the plate on her belly and eating her food.

* * *

Allan could barely see the nose in front of his face by the time he and Will arrived at Madeline's hut. Outside, it was cold and white; inside, the cheery fire was going and two plates waited on the table. Madeline was moving about, gathering things to put into a bag; it was as though she had known they were coming and Allan crossed himself at the older woman's eeriness.

"Mother, you have to come quickly. Deirdre's havin' the baby."

"In good time, Lad. You two sit and eat first while I gather my things."

"There's no time!"

"There is time yet," Madeline replied calmly. "Now eat so you have the strength to see me to your wife's side. I will be ready shortly, but we do not leave until your plates are clean."

The two men moved to the table and sat on the rickety stools, quickly shoveling the food into their mouths while Madeline finished packing her bag and banked the fire. Once they were done, the older woman wrapped herself in cloak and mantle and opened the door.

"Well, come on! Time's wasting!" she declared impatiently, heading out into the storm. Allan and Will followed closely, holding either of the woman's hands lest they become separated in the blinding snowfall.

* * *

The wind howled, making its way into the mouth of the cave, but toward the center, where the fire burned, it was almost cozy. Robin, Much, and Little John sat restlessly, waiting for Allan and Will to return with Madeline.

The back of the cave was quiet and the men kept casting nervous glances between the mouth of the cave and the back, hoping none of them would be called upon to _do_ anything. Trying to keep busy, the men took rags and dipped them in the bacon fat, Little John rubbing his staff, while Robin and Much rubbed their bows; the bacon fat would help to keep the dampness out of the wood. Each man concentrated on the task at hand, but had their ears attuned to any cry for help either from the women or from out in the storm. Before long, Marian came out, carrying a small packet which contained the white petals of a chamomile flower.

"Djaq says to steep these to make a tea for the pain," she stated gravely, handing the packet to Much.

"So she's in pain then. Deirdre, that is. I mean, I'm sure there's pain. Of course there's pain," Much babbled, his gaze dancing away from Marian's serious face.

"Much, please. Let us know when the tea is ready," Marian responded before turning away.

Robin jumped up, catching Marian's arm.

"Is she okay? It's been so quiet."

Robin's blue eyes bored into Marian's; Marian ducked her head, looking nervously toward the small cave where she was needed.

"She bears the pain well, Robin, but I do wish Madeline was here." With that, she walked quickly back to help Djaq with Deirdre.

* * *

The pains were coming more often now, and Deirdre could no longer deny that she was truly in labor. Everything below her waist hurt, and she ground her teeth against the pain until Djaq found the shaft of a broken arrow for her to bite down on during her contractions. In between contractions, Djaq and Marian made her walk, holding her up between them as they paced the little cavern. _Where is Allan with Madeline?_ she thought as another pain swept over her back and belly, nearly bringing her to her knees.

Much called nervously from outside the archway. "Marian? Marian? The tea's ready. I'll…I'll just leave it here, shall I?"

Robin's voice also sounded. "For the love of God, Much, give it here." A moment later, Robin walked in carrying a wooden cup. He walked up to the three women and held the cup, helping Deirdre to drink from it. When she had finished, he went out to get another cup of the tea, leaving it on one of the rock shelves in the smaller cavern.

"Is there nothing else we can do?" he asked of Djaq, who shook her head.

"She must walk, Madeline said. It will help ease the pain."

"Much! Get in here and help me a moment, will you?"

Much peered uncertainly into the room. "What is it, Master?" he asked nervously, forgetting for the moment that they were no longer master and servant, but only Robin and Much.

Robin took one of Deirdre's arms from Djaq, throwing it over his own shoulder to relieve the little Saracen.

"Relieve Marian. Let the women rest in case Deirdre needs them later. She must walk, Djaq says."

Much hesitated.

"Well, come on!" Robin urged. Much relieved Marian, looking worriedly at Deirdre, who did her best to smile at him, for once not teasing him.

Djaq handed the arrow shaft to Robin.

"When a pain hits her, place this in her mouth…"

"I know. I've seen the same in field hospitals in the Holy Land. To keep them from biting off their tongues."

Robin and Much began pacing while Djaq and Marian did their best to rest, praying to Allah and God respectively for Madeline's speedy appearance.

* * *

The snow was heavy and wet, falling like a blanket over the land. It hit the ground, gathering into damp, cold masses that made walking treacherous, running pure foolishness. The wind drove the cold through the trio's cloaks and pelted their eyes with the snowflakes. Allan felt like he could easily freeze where he was, but he knew Deirdre needed him to bring Madeline, and so he kept going, keeping a hold of the woman's mittened hand at all times. He was thankful for the new gloves and water-proof boots Deirdre had given him for Christmas, which kept most of the cold and dampness away from his extremities. He was desperate to get back to the cave quickly, but more desperate that they get back at all, as the winter storm turned everything white and he began to lose track of landmarks. Trying not to think of how easily they could all three die in the snow, Allan slogged onward. He and Will consulted often to be sure they kept on the correct path, shouting at each other to be heard over the screeching of the wind as it moved in the trees.

* * *

Little John stood near the entrance to the cave, realizing as he looked out into the white fury of the storm that Allan and Will could very well miss the cave, despite having been there many times. He looked back into the cozy depths to the fire, and knew he must make another, this one closer to the entrance—a signal fire. Quickly, he gathered the branches and smaller sticks he would need and began to form a cone out of the bigger bits first to protect the smaller ones from the howling wind and the damp snow. He placed his hands under the larger branches and began the difficult task of starting a fire in the wind and wet. By the time he got the kindling to start and leaned in to blow gently on it, encouraging the spark to flame higher, he was frozen half through and his arms felt like lead. He watched the small flame slowly devour the larger bits of wood, eating away at it more like a timid damsel than a ravenous man, and opened his coat to shield it more, shivering but satisfied as the flames' appetite took over and it roared to life.

* * *


	34. Chapter 34: Hard Labor

**A/N: Thanks again to my midwife friend, Linda, for checking the accuracy of the labor scenes and to whatsthefracas for the beta help!**

Chapter Thirty-four: Hard Labor

It was midday, but the sky was impossible to see, the passage of time impossible to mark. Allan and Will stood arguing about which way to go when the smell of smoke attracted their attention. They followed the scent, hoping it was the cave and came upon a small clearing that looked familiar; in the middle of the clearing, a large, shaggy man tended a bonfire.

"John!" Allan called in relief.

Little John looked up, then ducked his head down once more to say a quick prayer of thanks before once more raising his head and also his hand, reaching out to help the younger men bring Madeline into the warmth and safety of the cave.

Inside, Madeline quickly shucked off her cloak, mittens, and scarf, and was off to the back of the cave with Allan leading her.

"Well, well, well. Never was a baby could come when the weather was fine and the sun shinin' bright," she declared good-naturedly. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Robin and Much, who were each nearly being choked by Deirdre's latest contraction.

"All men, get out now, and don't let me see yer faces until I call for you."

Robin and Much sighed in relief as the contraction ended and Deirdre released them from the head-lock. Much glared at Allan on their way out the door.

"That's the second time your wife has threatened my life, and I swear this time she almost had me," he complained, rubbing his chafed neck.

Allan smiled, shooting a glance back at Deirdre and blinking against the melting snow that had caked his eyelashes. He crossed quickly over to her where she leaned against the wall, and took her hand, leaning in to kiss her mouth.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Madeline warned.

He turned a bit to look at the midwife angrily. "Look, I just wanna say good-bye to my wife, if that's all right with yo-ahhh!" he cried as another contraction took Deirdre and she squeezed his hand so hard that he collapsed onto his knees. In the doorway, Robin and Much laughed as Allan tried to get Deirdre to release his hand; once released, he moved quickly away, grousing to the others as he went out with them.

"All I wanted was to give 'er a quick peck and tell 'er she'd be fine. I ain't got no feelin' now in that 'and. Be lucky to draw a bowstring ever again, I will!" he griped, shaking his hand to try to get the feeling back and glaring at his friends, who continued to laugh at him.

"C'mon," Robin encouraged, "it's not as bad as all that. She could've had you around the neck!"

"Or even lower," Madeline teased as the men blanched and hurried away.

* * *

Madeline helped Deirdre over to the bedroll of straw that Djaq and Marian had made up for her.

"Let's lie you down for a bit and see what we've got, eh?"

Ponderously, Deirdre lay down, and Madeline lifted her skirts to see how far along she was.

"Have you been walking the whole time?"

Mutely, Deirdre nodded, in far too much pain to be embarrassed as the older woman poked and prodded her privates.

"And eating—you have to keep yer strength up, you know."

"I know. I ate some bread and eggs and bacon earlier."

"Anything since then?"

"No."

Madeline called Marian over. "Go out and get her some food—meat if you can, eggs if not."

Marian nodded and quickly exited the little room.

"Have you been drinking yer chamomile tea?"

"I have, but the pain is getting worse."

"Well, yer babe appears to be right comfortable for now. Yer waters ain't broke yet, but they should be soon. Sit up and eat," she directed. "When yer done, you'll walk some more."

At Deirdre's mutinous look, she added, "Unless you want to carry this babe until he's a grown man."

"No," Deirdre griped, reaching for the plate Marian had just brought in.

* * *

Deirdre was so tired, she could barely walk even with Djaq and Marian's help. Just when she thought she could not take another step, she felt water gush down her legs.

"Madeline!" she called.

The midwife had been stoking the fire, ensuring that the little chamber was kept warm for mother and soon-to-arrive baby. At Deirdre's cry, she looked up, noting the mud at her charge's feet.

"Ah, so the little scamp has decided to come now, for certain, eh? All right, let's us lie you down and take another look, shall we? Let's get that skirt off first; it'll want washing now, for sure."

Deirdre removed the skirt and then lay down with Djaq and Marian's help. After a brief examination, Madeline smiled at Deirdre.

"It shouldn't be long now," she assured. "Every time you feel a contraction, I want you to bear down."

Deirdre nodded her head; her hair clung to her sweaty face. With every contraction, she pushed, trying to expel the baby from her body; in between, she rested as well as she could and drank more of the chamomile tea to help with the pain. Time stood still as she kept up the unending process of push/rest, push/rest, fighting the pain lest it overwhelm her.

Djaq and Marian sat on either side of Deirdre, holding her hands and counting their blessings that most of Deirdre's words were spoken in Irish. They were relatively sure, however, after hearing his name, that Deirdre was questioning Allan's parentage.

"Allan!" Deirdre pitched her voice so that her husband would be certain to hear her. "This is all your fault. If you ever touch me again, I'll slice it off, do you hear me? Right off!" This followed by more cursing in Irish, some of which Djaq had heard before, causing the little Saracen to color. Marian also blushed when Deirdre proclaimed to them all that Allan's parents had never been married, and that his father was truly a well-proportioned midget with a penchant for fathering children full-grown.

After a time, she could hear Madeline's excited voice.

"Here it comes, here it comes!"

Suddenly, Madeline's expression turned from concentration and joy to blank and unemotional.

"Wait!" she commanded. "Do _not _push, whatever you do."

Madeline stared at the scene before her—leave it to Deirdre to not do anything the easy way. It was not the baby's head that was now visible, but rather its shoulder. If the little Irishwoman pushed, it could tear her so badly that she would bleed to death in a matter of moments; there might not even be time for Allan to come in and say good-bye. On top of that, Madeline could see the umbilical cord wrapped around the baby's arm; no doubt it was also wrapped around its neck, so a push from Deirdre would suffocate the poor child.

Deirdre moaned; her body wanted her to push. She felt like she had been laboring forever, and just wanted to get the baby out and hold her in her arms; she could not understand why Madeline was stopping her.

"I have to push, Madeline. I have to."

Madeline glared at her always-stubborn charge.

"If you push, you will die and probably take your baby with you."

Deirdre stared at the older woman in horror, but swallowed and panted instead of pushing when the next contraction hit.

Madeline waited for the contraction to roll over Deirdre and then she reached her hands in to manipulate the baby. She pushed the child back up the birth canal to give the head more room to drop. As she worked, she could hear Deirdre's cries of pain, but she didn't dare stop, trying to straighten the baby out before the next contraction hit.

* * *

Allan was pacing around the main chamber when he heard Deirdre's cursing, and swallowed as she threatened his manhood and decried his parentage. He had no illusions that should she choose to, she would make him a gelding without hesitation. The others looked at Allan wide-eyed, not envying their friend. Much crossed his legs and cleared his throat; he had been on the wrong end of Deirdre's temper and knew she could be as mean as a wet wild-cat when the mood struck her.

Suddenly, the cursing stopped; the silence was even more unnerving as the outlaws waited to hear the wail of a newborn. Instead, they heard Deirdre shriek. The sound cut to Allan's soul; he knew that for his wife to scream like that, she must be in excruciating pain. He had stopped pacing when the silence had hit; now he was in action again, striding purposefully toward their bedchamber. He could not bring himself to simply stand by while his wife suffered. As he came to the doorway of the cave, the smell was the first thing to hit him—blood; it struck something primitive in him, frightening the life out of him, but he pushed on for Deirdre. His wife sat, propped up by Marian, in a pile of straw. Djaq sat beside Deirdre, holding her hand and stroking her arm, speaking soothingly to her. Deirdre was naked from the waist down, a sight which normally would have had him thinking of lying with her, but this time had quite the opposite effect. Madeline was crouched between his wife's legs; he couldn't see the midwife's hands, but he did watch Deirdre's body bow up in pain.

"Madeline! What can I do?"

Madeline looked up, angry at Allan's interruption. "You can wait outside like I told you to, that's what!"

Allan stood dazed, staring at the scene for another moment before a hand clapped him on the shoulder, startling him. Little John stood next to him, his face tactfully averted from the women, his gaze gathering and holding Allan's. His brown eyes were softly sympathetic as they looked down at the younger man.

"Come on, Lad. There's naught you can do right now. It's best you stay out here with us and stay out of the women's way, yeah?"

Allan nodded mutely and allowed Little John to lead him away, the sound of Deirdre's sobs haunting him along the way.

* * *

Deirdre was hot and sweaty, her body wracked by pain as Madeline reached her hands in to push the baby back and help the head drop down. The next contraction hit and Deirdre whined as she fought not to push, her hands reaching for the cloth they had given her to pull on and nearly tearing it in two. The world was becoming foggy, Madeline's voice sounding far away as she told Deirdre to hold on for just another minute. Her lids seemed heavy on her eyes and she could no longer hold them up. Blissfully, she slid into the darkness.

* * *

Allan stood at the mouth of the cave, staring out at the snow as it continued to fall, but more softly now, turning everything clean and white. He wondered how everything could look so pretty out there when inside his wife was fighting for her life once more. Madeline had not said that Deirdre was in danger, but Allan had seen the brief flicker of fear on the midwife's face; it had been enough to convince him that this was not a normal birth.

Will came up and laid a hand on his friend's arm. Allan turned; in Will's other hand was the lap harp Deirdre had been teaching him to play to while away the boring hours of winter. She had taught him a lullaby first, one that she would sing in Irish first, then in English, her voice pure and clear, her fingers nimble on the strings. Just the other day, she had complimented him on how quickly he was learning the instrument and he had flushed with pleasure since his singing had been known to frighten livestock. With her teaching him though, his voice had begun to ring true, and he had discovered a pleasure in music he had never expected. Hesitantly, he took the proffered instrument, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes quizzically at Will.

"It'll help you pass the time, take your mind off things."

Will had seen the look of blank fear, of incomprehension or the wish for it, on Allan's face as Little John had led him back to the main chamber. He and Allan had had their differences—he had even denied Allan his friendship when Allan had asked for its return—but the lost look on the pick-pocket's face had Will thinking of the things Djaq had said about Allan.

It was like Djaq to look for the goodness in people, and it was she who had been the first to wonder _why_ Allan had betrayed them, the last to name him traitor. Having seen the war in the Holy Land, Djaq knew what torture could do to men; had seen spirits and bodies broken, men begging for death. That Allan had betrayed them by working first with and then for Gisbourne, she conceded. Never once, though, had he put their lives in jeopardy. Never once had he brought the sheriff and his men to the camp he knew so well, and never had he told them that Marian worked with Robin Hood—words that would have been Marian's death knell. In fact, Marian had told them all how he had risked his life pretending to be the Night Watchman in order to save her life.

Thanks to Djaq's insights and Allan's example, Will was beginning to realize that life was not always as black and white as he had believed as a child, that the world was tinted with varying shades of gray. Allan was a complicated man, and Deirdre was probably even more so, but when it came right down to it, Will could not bear to see someone suffer, no matter his grievance with them. And so, seeing Allan's face, watching as the older man stared blankly out into the slowing storm, Will had picked up the harp, knowing he always felt better with something to do. Perhaps it would help Allan as well.

"Thank you, my friend. But I don't know if I can…"

"Play the lullaby Deirdre was teaching you. Maybe she'll hear it. Maybe the baby will hear it. It might help them."

Allan nodded and swallowed; settling himself on a rock he began to play.

* * *

**A/N: Please R&R! I love the feedback & like to know what you liked and what you didn't. Thanks!**


	35. Chapter 35: A Matter of Trust

**A/N: WARNING: Graphic sex, rape, and sexual torture. Things got bad in this one. If you have a weak stomach, skip this chap—it's all around Guy and Adelaide. If you are more interested in the Allan/Deirdre storyline, you will not miss anything; if you are following the Guy/Adelaide story, I think this will help to get a glimpse of her past.**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-five: A Matter of Trust

In Fulham, the snow was much softer, the wind barely stirred. As Adelaide came in from outside with some new-made friends, with all of their maids carrying bundles of cloth and thread, she threw back her hood, shaking the snow from the shoulders of her cloak. She stomped her feet to get the wet, packed snow off of her shoes as well. She looked up to see Guy lounging in a chair next to the prince; they sat across the hall, nearer to the big fireplace that took up nearly all of the back wall. She smiled shyly at her husband, ducking her head and following the other women up to the solar where they intended on whiling the day away in sewing. The day was nearly half over and she could not believe that she actually looked forward to the night, to lying with her husband.

Across the hall, Prince John noted the smile on Gisbourne's lips with a raised brow.

'So, how are you finding the little wife, eh Gisbourne?"

Guy ducked his head for a moment, erasing the smile before turning to his sovereign.

"She is…most pleasing, My Lord Prince."

"Remember, Gisbourne, that I am a generous master. You have served me well, and Lady Adelaide—along with her former husband's holdings—was certainly the first of many rewards to come."

"Thank you, My Lord." Guy inclined his head.

"You may go, Gisbourne. I need entertainment, and since I do not share my brother's taste in bed partners..." Prince John waved Guy away with an imperious gesture before using the same hand to wave over a pretty little scullery maid. As he left, Guy could hear the prince ordering the girl to accompany him to his chambers.

* * *

Guy walked into the chambers he shared with his wife. _Wife_, he thought, staring in wonder at her sleeping form curled in a chair before the fire. After the troubles he had had with Marian and Deirdre, he had thought he would be a single man for many years to come, yet here he was married near a month now. He had thought Marian would erase the scars from his soul, that Deirdre would provide the money and power he needed; Adelaide fulfilled both needs, her money and lands giving him a security he had not known for years, her gentleness bringing out the tender, more patient side in him.

Guy sat in the chair opposite her and removed his boots; once they arrived at Mablethorpe, he intended on having a body servant once again, but it would be unseemly to have a man entering the room he shared with Adelaide. He could feel his erection pressing painfully against his leather trousers as he stood. He pulled the shirt off over his head, and untied pants and hosen, letting them drop carelessly where he stood. He stared at Adelaide for a moment, his hungry eyes roaming her body, noting the outline of a lush breast and a curvaceous hip under her shift as she slept on her side. She began to move restlessly on the chair, whimpering softly in her sleep.

"Adelaide," he called quietly, moving to stand closer to her. "Adelaide, wake up."

He bent low over her to kiss her temple and was startled as her eyes flew open and he saw the naked fear there. She made no sound, just stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before realizing where she was.

Adelaide had been having a wonderful dream, a dream where Guy held her and made love to her, giving her pleasure, making her feel treasured. Suddenly, Lord Henry was there, leering at her evilly, flipping her over to slam between her butt cheeks. He held a knife to her ear, threatening to cut it off if she didn't stop whimpering and telling her laughingly to "take it like a man," amused at his own joke. The pain was intense as he thrust in and out of her, the only lubrication coming from their sweat, her blood, and his pre-come. He grunted and thrust, tearing her constantly sore bottom, reveling in her pain and her fear before filling her even more deeply, first with his cock, then with his seed. He remained inside of her as her hole contracted around him, trying to expel him even as she lay motionless beneath him, the tears streaming down her face.

"Adelaide, wake up." Dimly, she heard the words. She did not want to obey, but obedience had been beaten into her for too long and she did as she was told. She expected to see Lord Henry there, ordering her to sleep on her pallet by the foot of the bed, but instead it was Guy, his eyes dark with desire for a moment before he cocked his head inquisitively and his gaze turned to one of concern instead.

"What's wrong?"

When Adelaide made no answer and her face began to crumple into tears, Guy reached for her, pulling her up and cradling her in his arms while the storm raged over her. He whispered encouragement as she sobbed against his chest, trying to comfort her in her obvious terror. _Another nightmare._ He swore softly, his fingers contracting involuntarily in his desire to kill the man who had so hurt her. Never in his life had he hated another man so much, not even Robin Hood, who had stolen lands from him, and probably Marian as well, and who made him look a fool as often as possible. He wanted Robin's head on a spike, but he wanted Lord Henry to suffer, hoped that the man _had_ suffered as he lay dying of pneumonia in Germany. After a time, Adelaide sniffled and pulled away, apologizing.

"For what?" Guy asked, genuinely confused. Women cried and Adelaide certainly had cause if her stories of Lord Henry were even half true.

"I was having a nightmare," she stated, swiping at the tears on her face with the back of her arm.

Guy smiled ironically at her. "So I gathered."

His expression grew more serious and he tilted her chin up, catching and holding her gaze, his steadiness calming her.

"He is dead and can never harm you again. I am your husband now. _No one_ will ever hurt you again, do you understand me? You are mine and I will protect you with my life. You are safe."

Guy bent and kissed her forehead, hearing her sigh as she leaned her head into his kiss, her breath feathering his neck. He bent further to capture her lips, his kisses becoming more urgent as she responded, her lips parting for his questing tongue, her own tongue dueling with his in her mouth. He felt her nipples harden and scrape against his chest as he pulled her closer, leaning his body into hers. His breathing became rough and labored and he swallowed hard as their lips broke apart.

"Lie with me, Addy," he pleaded, his lips nearly brushing hers as they stood before the fire, his voice gone rough with need.

Rather than answering, Adelaide stepped out of his embrace. Disappointment flared in him, but briefly, as she reached for the ties of her shift at her shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor, standing naked before him. In the firelight, her color was high, and with her green eyes and brown hair, she put him in mind of stories his mother had once told of the wood-nymph Nimue who had enchanted Merlin, trapping him for all eternity in the bole of a yew tree. He felt like Merlin now, helpless to move, trapped by her beauty and shyness as she smiled timidly at him.

His breathing was rapid now, his eyes bright as he stared at her, entranced. He reached forward slowly, placing his hand on the back of her neck and pulling her gently toward him, leaning his head in to place his lips on hers. Her mouth opened to him, her eyes closed as she responded to his gentle pressure; his own eyes closed in bliss at her acceptance of him. His other hand traced a line along her arm and she giggled softly, the sound like music to his ears. He smiled as he pulled his mouth from hers. He continued to stroke her arm with the one hand, massaging her neck with the other.

"I need you, Addy," he breathed out.

"I know," she answered softly, turning from him to lead him toward the bed.

She bent over to pull back the covers, careful to not turn entirely around. Guy reached for her, pulling her back into his embrace, feeling her body stiffen as his erection throbbed against her buttocks. He stroked her belly, whispering endearments as he nuzzled her neck. He moved his knee in between her thighs, pushing them open and heard her answering whimper.

"You must trust me, Adelaide."

She swallowed hard, the fear beginning to overwhelm her. She felt a bit of wetness against her flanks as Guy's excitement made its presence known and she shuddered involuntarily. Guy made no move to enter her, though, stroking her arms and her belly, kissing and nuzzling her neck and shoulders. She waited for the inevitable, for him to bend her over and assault her, for the pain to take over. Instead he continued his slow attack on her senses, his mouth and hands causing her tension to begin melting away. Her shoulders dropped and she leaned back against him, careful though, to keep her hips bent slightly forward. She did not fight him as he took hold of her hips and pulled her back toward him, his thick erection nestling between her butt cheeks.

"It's all right," he whispered, feeling her body begin to stiffen once more.

"I told you I would never do the things to you that Lord Henry did, and I am a man of my word. I want to hold you and I want you to trust me."

He felt Adelaide shudder beneath his hands as another wave of terror washed over her; he knew it was a great effort for her to trust him when he held her in this position and he smiled proudly at her bravery as he felt the tension begin leaving her body once more. He ran his hands up from her belly and began to gently massage her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples. She moaned in pleasure, dropping her head back against his chest, exposing her neck to his increasingly urgent kisses.

He kept one hand on her breast and moved the other languorously down her body until he could reach the juncture of her legs. He paused, lightly running his hand along the inside of her thigh, increasing the pressure slightly when she jumped and giggled.

Adelaide's breathing became more ragged as he continued to stroke her thigh and she arched her back, turning slightly to the side in an effort to move his hand just a bit. Guy would have none of it though, continuing to focus his attentions everywhere _but_ the spot between her legs that was heating up rapidly. She felt her belly and her lower lips contract, wanting his manhood to fill her even as he denied her still.

"Guy!" she whimpered, writhing helplessly in his arms, overcome by her desire for him as his gentle ministrations washed away the fear.

Guy smiled in pure male satisfaction and whirled her around to lay her gently on her back on the bed. He chuckled low in his throat as she opened her legs to him; she whined pitifully when he closed them and moved to lie beside her instead.

"Guy, please!"

"Soon, Addy. Soon," he whispered against her ear, nibbling on the lobe before moving lower to begin suckling one of her nipples, laving it with his tongue at the same time.

His hand rested against her mound now and she moved restlessly, pushing her hips up against him, trying to get his fingers to slip into her as he continued to lick and suck at her breast. She moaned and writhed beneath his ministrations, her body desperate for release, nearly jumping off the bed when one of his fingers brushed over her clit, running up and down between the swollen folds encasing it.

She whimpered pathetically as his mouth left her breast and began kissing a trail down her belly. She felt him shift on the bed and his hand encouraged her legs to part; they needed little persuasion and she spread them eagerly, expecting to feel Guy's length begin to push into her. Instead, she felt his mouth trailing along her inner thigh as his fingers opened up her nether lips. When he didn't push his hips against her, she looked down, eyes widening in surprise, to find him grinning as he dipped his head down, his tongue flicking out to taste her sweetness. Quickly, she closed her eyes.

Lord Henry had often insisted that she take him into _her_ mouth, but never had he put his mouth on her. She sighed in pleasure as Guy's tongue began laving her, beginning at the bottom of her lips and working up between her folds. When she thought she could take no more pleasure, he carefully took her clit between his teeth and began to suckle, pushing one and then another long finger into her opening. Within moments, she felt her belly clench and warm moisture flood between her legs. Guy's mouth moved to lap it up, groaning at her sweet taste as her body spasmed beneath his ministrations. He buried his tongue in her, holding her open with his fingers as he licked and sucked at her nether lips, feeling her inner muscles close tightly around his questing organ. She arched her back, straining toward his mouth as he continued his assault.

He moved to the side, suckling on her inner thigh and replaced his tongue with two of his fingers, rubbing his thumb along her clit before pulling the fingers out and replacing the two with three, his pinky scraping between her butt cheeks as he moved the other fingers in and out of her. She seemed not to notice the wayward pinky as he stroked her with his fingers, and Guy smiled in satisfaction. He had no wish to take her in the 'Greek fashion," but he wanted her to trust him completely. He wanted to rub his cock up against her rear entrance if the mood struck him to do so without her flinching. He decided to take her from behind tonight, just to teach her the lesson that she could trust him in all things.

Easing out from between her legs, he flipped her over, pulling her up on her knees and toward where he now stood beside the bed. He heard her whimper of fright, but forged on, pushing his straining member against her lush warmth, feeling the petal-soft lips part for him as he pushed against her, slowly entering her body. As soon as he entered her moist heat, she relaxed, pushing her hips back at him, drawing him in. Her body gave way before his thickness and he groaned as he felt her opening to him, allowing his generous length to slowly invade her core. Despite her dampness, he had to pull out a bit before resuming his entry, slowly driving into her as she whimpered and moaned, pushing back against him.

He had never had cause to be ashamed of his manhood; when a whore claimed in a wondering voice that God had indeed been generous when gifting him with his male attributes, that young man could be confident in his prowess. When those whores had decided to teach young Guy how to pleasure women and not just lie with them to ease his own needs, Guy's confidence had grown. He was a fast learner, a generous lover, and soon the whores in the little French town where he was raised were vying for the attentions of "Le Étalon." No woman had ever turned away his attentions until Marian and Deirdre.

Gently, he pulled out of Adelaide, pushing slowly back when only the head of him remained inside of her. Her fall of long brown hair made a curtain around her face—she could have been any woman, but she was not; she was his wife, his Adelaide. He wanted to give her pleasure. He wanted to fill her belly with his seed and watch his children grow inside of her. He smiled at the thought as he kept up a languorous pace, pushing himself increasingly deeper into her core as she writhed in pleasure before him. His fingers held her hips as she tried to engulf him too quickly; he had no desire to cause her pain and so he continued to take his time, each stroke bringing him deeper into her body.

Adelaide felt like she would break into a million pieces if Guy did not thrust fully into her. Lord Henry had not been a well-endowed man, and had often made up for it by raping her with the longer, thicker candles he would have made especially for their bedchamber. The candles had been agonizing, their lengths thrust viciously into her body for the sole purpose of causing pain and fear, sometimes even pushed into her while they yet were aflame, the fire put out by her juices, the molten wax adhering to her most sensitive areas. Guy was not Lord Henry though, as Adelaide had been told and had come to learn; while he was quite a large man, he was also extremely gentle with her, waiting—sometimes to the point where she felt she would go insane from the wanting—for her to adjust to him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt his balls against her folds; she knew it would not be long now before he began thrusting harder into her and a little thrill took her body. Still, he made her wait, throbbing inside her as her muscles contracted around him.

He massaged her back, beginning at her shoulders and working his way down to her tailbone. His fingers stroked absently along her bottom, opening up the cheeks to tickle her tight hole, feeling her go tense for a moment before relaxing into the motions. It was when he heard her groan and begin to push back against him, despite the finger he kept hard against her bottom, that he knew he had her trust. At one point, he even felt his finger enter her to the first knuckle as she bucked against him; Adelaide did not seem to notice, or to care, as she thrust her hips to him. He removed the finger and grabbed her hips in both hands, pulling her toward him as he began to pick up the pace, faster and faster until he was slamming his hips against her bottom. The sound of flesh slapping flesh and their combined groans of pleasure filled the chamber. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her already slick back as he redoubled his efforts, impossibly going deeper as he roared his pleasure and filled her with his seed while her muscles tightened and milked him as she found her own release, sobbing out her pleasure.

When he could breathe again, Guy collapsed onto the bed, pulling Adelaide close, holding her from behind and nuzzling her neck. Adelaide snuggled limply against him, her own breathing still ragged.

"You are mine to cherish now, Addy. You are safe with me always, remember that," he murmured against her collar bone.

"Thank you, Guy. I will try," she responded, stroking the dark hairs of his arm as she drifted off to sleep once more; this time, no nightmares plagued her.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know--I've got Guy hung like a horse--how trite! It was done mostly to show the differences between him & Henry; where Henry was not a large man, he caused Addy pain while Guy, who is large, is very gentle with her. Sorry it's not the chapter y'all wanted!**


	36. Chapter 36: The Birth

**A/N: You knew I couldn't keep you in suspense for too long! Here's the chap you've been waiting for. R&R please!**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-six; The Birth

At first, Allan had been loath to learn to play the lap harp his mother in-law had sent to her daughter for Christmas. The last time he had attempted anything musical had been the previous Christmas, when he and Deirdre, accompanied by Guy and Marian, had attended services together. Guy's rich baritone and Deirdre's soft tenor had been a fitting tribute to the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ; he almost felt like he and Marian would burn in Hell for their own pitiful attempts at singing. Deirdre had insisted he learn, though, and had set herself the task of teaching him.

Allan's first attempts had Much complaining that it felt like his ears were bleeding, but he kept his mouth shut after a quelling look from Deirdre. She had told Allan to close his eyes and just feel the rhythms of the world around him, to which he had raised a dubious eyebrow at first, only submitting when Deirdre had glared at him. He had found, to his surprise, that with practice, closing his eyes and quieting his mind opened his soul to things he had not realized were there. Ideas flowed, pushed along a current of music that began to guide his fingers as they danced over the strings. As Deirdre had helped him to learn a lullaby that Brianna had sung to her as a child—a song of obstacles overcome, and magic, where a Faerie king rescues the poor but beautiful maid and takes her away to be his bride amongst the fair folk where they live happily forever—Allan had found the music becoming a part of him. Soon, he found that when he settled in with the harp resting on his lap and his shoulder, a peace the likes of which he had only come close to when he was alone with Deirdre draped him like a mantle.

He felt in desperate need of that peace now as Will handed him the harp. He positioned his fingers on the strings, plucking each one to see if they were in tune and turning the levers at the top accordingly for those that were not. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the soft walnut body of the harp and gave himself over, his deft fingers dancing over the strings, coaxing the music from the instrument. The haunting notes of the cláirseach seemed to ease the anxiety of the men around the fire; Allan envisioned the music wrapping throughout the cave, enveloping his wife and child in its gentle embrace.

Normally, such an otherworldly vision as the one in his head would have unmanned him, but Deirdre always managed to balance the extraordinary with the christian, claiming that since all things came from God, it made sense that the supernatural did too, and was therefore nothing to be afraid of. He was still hard-pressed to hide that fear, but he had learned much from his complex wife in the months of their marriage, and now was not the time to be frightened of his vision. He continued to play, praying that his music would somehow help Deirdre and the baby.

* * *

Dimly, through the pain and the blood, Deirdre heard the ubiquitous sound of harp music as it took over her mind, body, and soul. It was calming, a soothing balm against the unending agony that was wracking her. She swam up out of the depths of unconsciousness to find Marian staring at her wide-eyed, Djaq holding her hand as Madeline worked between her legs, pushing the baby back and turning its head.

"Ah, so you're back. Give me just one more moment and we'll have you two ready. _Do not _push until I tell you to, understand?"

Deirdre nodded mutely and began to pant, pulling on the cloth and squeezing Djaq's hand as another contraction rolled over her. Somehow, the pain did not seem as bad as it had before.

Madeline worked quickly, waiting for the contraction to finish, then reaching in and hooking two fingers under the cord. Gently, she tugged the cord up and around the baby's arm. She reached her entire hand into Deirdre's birth canal to find the part of the cord she suspected was wrapped around the baby's neck, once more hooking her fingers under the cord and lifting it up and over the baby's head this time. Madeline groped around, ensuring that the baby was safe, nodding her head in satisfaction.

"Next contraction, you push hard, do you hear me?"

Deirdre smiled. "Aye." The next contraction soon came, and Deirdre bore down, pushing with all her might to help her child into the world. Her hair was mostly pulled back, but a few strands clung to the sweat of her brow. Her face turned red, her eyes determined.

"There's his head coming now!" Madeline smiled in satisfaction, watching the child appear. The miracle of it never ceased to amaze her, and the tears stung her eyes as she laid her arms out between Deirdre's legs to catch the child as it exited its mother.

"Push!" she exorted. The wee little shoulders were next and as Deirdre bore down once more, the child's torso and legs slid out into Madeline's waiting arms.

"Marian, grab me that knife in the pot on the fire. Mind the handle, it may be hot as well."

Madeline was rubbing the baby down with a blanket. She reached a finger into his mouth to clean out the mucus and allow him to breath—_him_, she noted with amusement, thinking how sure Deirdre had been that it was a girl. The little body began to squirm and suddenly cried out lustily, affronted by the cold and the light of his new world. Quickly, Madeline cut the cord, the red-hot knife cauterizing the wound as it made it. She handed the baby to his mother.

"A fine son you've given to your husband," she claimed, watching Deirdre's eyes widen in surprise. Always stubborn, the new mother pulled aside the blanket, counting in the extra appendage while she counted digits.

"You're a naughty lad, you know that? Just like your Da already." Deirdre smiled and kissed the boy on the forehead as she re-wrapped him in the warmth of the blanket.

"Hand him up to Marian now, you've one more push to give me and then you're done," Madeline commanded.

Deirdre stared at the midwife in consternation a moment, then her eyes widened.

"Another baby? I told you there was a girl!" Deirdre had no more time for gloating as the next, smaller contraction took her. Madeline wrapped the bundle up and tossed it in the corner to Deirdre's horror.

"It's the afterbirth, you daft lass!" Madeline declared, pushing one hand into Deirdre's entrance, massaging her abdomen with the other one.

"You might've told me before you went flinging it away, you old witch!"

Madeline raised an imperious eyebrow at her charge.

"I'll ignore that for now, you stubborn Gael, but I'd suggest you mind yer manners from here out."

Deirdre looked more peeved than chagrined. "What are you doing anyway? The babe's out—aren't I done?"

"Do you plan on ever having any fun with your husband again?"

Deirdre glared at the midwife.

"At present, no. That man will have to just suffer. If he thinks he'll ever lay a finger on me again…"

"Yes, yes, yes. We all feel that way at first. Before long, you'll be wantin' him back in yer bed and if you plan on having any feelin' at that time, I've got to put things back to rights. Besides, this stops yer bleedin'."

Deirdre harumphed, but subsided, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Later, we'll find a nice strong oak tree and plant the afterbirth at the base. It'll make the boy strong. For now, let's get you two cleaned up and fed, so Allan can come meet his son," Madeline declared, removing her fingers from Deirdre's birth canal and washing them in a nearby bowl of water.

The women set to the task of cleaning mother and child, throwing the bedding straw on the fire to burn while they were at it. Before long, Deirdre was dressed in a clean gown, the child in one of the receiving garments his mother had sewn for him. She sat on a pallet, the baby nuzzling at her breast, then crying out as he smelled the milk, but could not seem to find its source. Deirdre smiled indulgently, then moved aside the cloth of her gown and guided her nipple to his mouth. He stopped mid-cry and snuffled contentedly as he pulled, eating his first meal outside of his mother's body.

Allan had been totally involved in the lullaby when he heard the frightening silence broken by the cry of a baby—his son, his son was alive, but what of his wife? He continued to play after a brief hesitation, praying with all he had that Deirdre was all right too. Djaq emerged from the back of the cave, her face glowing as she looked toward where Allan sat.

"It's a boy!" she declared.

Allan jumped up, clutching the harp. "Deirdre?" he demanded. His body resonated with his fear for her, eyes wide, muscles taut.

"Arguing with Madeline already," Djaq smiled.

Allan laughed in relief, putting the harp down to head toward the back of the cave. He stopped, looking down in consternation at Djaq's small hands on his chest, her body blocking his path.

"Uh uh uh. No visitors until we've cleaned up a bit and your son has had his first meal. Soon," she told him as he looked pitifully at her. She smiled shyly at Will before turning to go back and help the women.

Robin and the others came up, clapping Allan on the back, all of the men smiling and laughing in relief. True to her word, Djaq soon returned, calling to the men to follow her. Allan led the way, pausing by the entrance to the little cave he shared with his wife, suddenly nervous. He had never been much of a family man—his mother had died when he was young, his father had betrayed both Allan and his brother Tom, and even Tom had stolen from him on numerous occasions. Even the gang he had come to view as family had betrayed him, turning on him when he had needed their help instead of trying to understand what had made him sell information to Gisbourne. So many people had proven unworthy of his trust until he had met Deirdre, and now that they had a baby as well, she would be relying on him. He felt unworthy and totally unprepared for the task.

He knew he would be a better father than his own father had been; it would be easy to not fall into a drunken stupor every night, to not beat the child black and blue, to not turn on him for money. As Djaq gently nudged him in the back, pushing him into the room, and he saw his son sleeping at Deirdre's breast, his beautiful long lashes feathering his apple cheeks, he wanted more for him. His eyes met Deirdre's and they smiled proudly at each other.

"Well, what's his name?" Madeline demanded, breaking the couple's reverie.

Deirdre continued to hold Allan's gaze.

"Tom. Tom Ruarc* A' Dale."

Allan's grin lit his face—it was a fitting tribute to the little brother he had loved despite his flaws. Behind him, he heard Much sniffle.

"Who is Ruarc?" Djaq asked.

Deirdre turned and smiled at the little Saracen who had been such a help during the birth.

"I knew him as a child. He was my older brother when my da first brought me and Mum to Meath. I've not seen him since we left Ireland." She turned her gaze back to Allan, pleading with him to accept the name.

Allan smiled warmly at her as he moved to crouch next to her; at this moment, he would give her the world if she asked for it. He sat, reaching for the baby and heard the indrawn breaths from those who had seen him "quiet" little Seth so long ago.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna turn 'im upside down. It ain't like 'e's cryin' or anythin'," he reasoned, his grin broadening as little Tom reached a hand from his swaddling to grab his father's outstretched finger.

"He's a strong one, that's certain." Madeline beamed proudly, almost as if she was the one who had birthed the lad.

"Just like 'is mother," Allan added.

"Lord, help us," Much rolled his eyes skyward, putting on his most pious face as Deirdre stuck out her tongue and the others laughed.

* * *

***Pronounced "Roarke."**


	37. Chapter 37: Settling In

**A/N: Thanks to whatsthefracas for the beta help. Check out her RH stories and now a new "True Blood" as well!**

Chapter Thirty-seven: Settling In

Life settled into a routine once more, with boredom the constant enemy. The outlaws began sleeping more and more during the day as little Tom's crying kept them up at night and it was yet too cold for Deirdre to walk him outside. She was walking him around their chambers yet again, rocking him and shushing him, exhaustion claiming her body. Allan snored noisily and she glared at him. "_How can he possibly sleep with all the noise our son is making?"_ she thought. As she passed near him, she "accidentally" kicked him, interrupting his sleep. Allan woke with a start, reaching for his sword as he sat up, blinking rapidly.

"What?" he demanded, wondering where the danger was.

"Oops, I guess I stumbled," Deirdre claimed innocently. "I'm just so awfully tired. Here, you take your son for a bit." Deirdre handed the squalling infant into his father's hands.

"What do you want me to do with 'im?" Allan sat, wide-eyed with Tom in his stiff arms.

"Talk to him. Sing to him. I don't know." With a sigh, Deirdre collapsed onto the pallet next to her boys, running a hand through her hair.

"Talk to 'im about what? It ain't like 'e's gonna talk back." Allan looked down incredulously at his wife, whose eyes were shutting as she answered him.

"It doesn't matter—it's just the sound of your voice he hears; he doesn't understand the words yet."

Allan turned his gaze back to Tom and began talking softly to his son, who snuffled but still was not quiet, not until Allan began speaking the words to the Irish lullaby that had brought little Tom into the world. Allan continued speaking the only Irish words he knew—except those he would not say in front of a child—as the baby slowly calmed in his arms. With a sigh Tom drifted off to sleep, his small thumb in his mouth, his long lashes fanning his cheekbones. Allan sat back with a sigh of his own, turning to hand the sleeping child back to Deirdre. He raised an eyebrow in amusement at a particularly loud snore that issued from her open mouth before settling Tom on the pallet between them.

* * *

In Fulham, life was also settling into its new routine. During the day, Guy trained with his men and rode when the weather was good, while Adelaide sat with the ladies, sewing or knitting to pass the time away. There was always gossip, and Adelaide often had to negotiate treacherous verbal waters; before long, the ladies began giving curious stares to her still-slender form. None of them knew of the Queen Anne's lace seeds she took or of the small pocket of fear that was still left in her heart, despite Guy's gentle behavior. Night after night, he held her, making love to her and then snuggling close until dawn, except when her "woman's time" came upon her, and then he slept on a pallet next to the bed so he would not be as tempted.

As she sat before the window in the ladies solar, Adelaide listened to the twittering voices of the other women, complaining about their husbands. She knew they wished to draw her into their game, to learn more of her newly formed relationship with the handsome, if brooding, Sir Guy of Gisbourne. She found the forthrightness of the other ladies to be somewhat off-putting; they spoke of things best left in privacy.

"My William is so funny. Thinks I can actually feel it when he puts his baby-sized twig inside of me. Last night, he had the nerve to say to me, 'There you are,' when he was done, as though I should be happy now," declared a rather horse-faced young woman with dull brown hair and narrow brown eyes.

"Whatever did you tell him, Bernice?" asked the blonde with the pale blue eyes.

"I didn't tell him I would be satisfied later by the prince's head stableman, that's certain!"

"Oh, that man has the right equipment _and_ he knows what to do with it!" the blonde agreed.

Adelaide flushed at their comments, embarrassed by their honesty and their wantonness; of course, even if she were wont to, she had no need to visit one such as the prince's stableman, not with Guy as her husband.

As if reading her mind, Bernice piped up once more, speaking to Adelaide this time.

"So what of Sir Guy, Adelaide?"

"What of him?" Her vague answers annoyed the other women, but she refused to discuss what went on in her bedroom; she had been hotly embarrassed to discover that Lord Henry had discussed the goings-on in their bedroom—in minute detail—although he _had_ lied about her responses and his size. Her cheeks had flamed to hear the servants speaking of the details of Lord Henry's rapes, of how they had twittered over the lies he had told of her begging him to take her in every way, making it out like she was some enthusiastic camp follower.

When she had been younger, Adelaide had fantasized—as did all her friends—of marrying a handsome prince who would carry her away to his home. She had dreamt of him carrying her up the stairs to their bower, but never really knew what happened in that room. Years later, her older friends and her older sister had described to her how wonderful joining with a man could be. She had looked forward to her wedding night, until the actual event had changed her opinion, scarring her with its violence. Now Guy had shown her the true joy to be had in a marriage bed, and she felt he deserved more than for her to treat him the way Lord Henry had treated her, by speaking of the details of their private moments with others. Guy did not seem like the kind of man who would appreciate her talking with anyone of the things that transpired between them.

"Will you be joining us in the stable?" the blonde—Ingrid, if Adelaide remembered correctly—insinuated.

Adelaide blushed. "I do not think so."

The other two women exchanged knowing looks.

"So, Sir Guy _is_ like our stableman then, eh? I always thought he would be. He may not hold lands in his own name, but he does throw off this…aura…of power. My husband says there is no Gisbourne for Sir Guy to hold, but that he holds a village named Locksley. So why is he named "Gisbourne" Harold was wondering?"

Adelaide had no answer, her cheeks turning deep red over her ignorance.

"I do not know. Does it matter what a man has though, if he is good and kind?"

The women twittered like silly birds. "He _must_ be quite large to instill such loyalty in our Adelaide! I'll bet he knows how to use it, too!" Bernice added slyly.

Bernice's speculations, and referencing her as "their" Adelaide, angered her. She put down her sewing and began to gather her things, intent on being anywhere but near these two women and their nasty insinuations.

"I'll thank you to not say such things. What goes on in my bedchamber is between my husband and myself. I trust that the next time we meet, the conversation will be more civil!" With that, Adelaide stormed out of the solar, slamming the door and then hurrying down the stairs and to her chambers, intent on fetching her cloak and then getting some fresh air.

* * *

Guy had stopped in their chambers to get a fresh shirt and to clean up for supper—the prince was fastidious when it came to the cleanliness of those who sat close to him and would be most displeased with Guy showing up to the supper table unwashed. He had his shirt off and his hair, face, and chest glistened with water; he was reaching for the towel beside the washbowl when Adelaide stormed in, muttering under her breath. He had never seen her like this—her anger had always been restrained, but not this time. Her color was high, her eyes bright and flashing fire as she growled about, "Ladies, indeed!" Guy was sad to watch the veil drop over her eyes as she looked up to see him standing there.

Adelaide had slammed the door to the chamber, the latest invective dying on her lips as she glanced up to see Guy standing by the fire. He was bare from the waist up, his chest glistening in the firelight, nipples hard from the chill of the water. A small smile played on his lips, and amusement lit his eyes.

"My Lord…Guy. What brings you here?"

Guy looked around him before resting his gaze on Adelaide.

"This _is_ my bedchamber, is it not?"

Adelaide flushed and looked to the floor. Guy stepped forward and took her chin in his hand, pulling her face up to look into her eyes.

"I am joking, Adelaide. I was dirty from riding out with my men and needed to wash before supper." Guy brought his lips down on hers, feeling them give way and open to his tongue before her own tongue met his, her arms reaching up to allow her hands to twine in his hair. He pulled her body close, his hands stroking her back and her bottom, and felt her nipples harden through the material of her dress. He broke away, resting his forehead on hers.

"I still smell of horses. I must wash."

Adelaide found herself disappointed. Feeling his hard body pressed against hers, his mouth plundering hers, she had wanted nothing more than to lie with him then and there. Instead of releasing him, she kept his head close to hers as her fingers gripped his hair.

"You smell just fine, Guy. We have plenty of time yet before supper."

Her mouth found his and this time, she was the aggressor. Guy was surprised to find his sweet little Adelaide behaving so wantonly. His cock throbbed painfully behind the leather in response to her as she dropped her hands from his head to run them down his chest and to the ties of his pants. A finger brushed along the top of the pants as she urgently tried to unlace the ties. Guy didn't know where this temptress had come from, but he wanted to take her so badly it was an almost physical pain.

His hands gripped her neck, his mouth plundering hers before he broke away with an oath as the servant who was announcing supper knocked on the door, his yet-falsetto voice carrying through the oak into Guy's fevered brain. His eyes burned with intensity as he looked down at his wife.

"We will finish this later," he promised, sending a shiver of anticipation racing down her spine.

* * *

Supper seemed to take forever; Guy and Adelaide were each tortured by the other's nearness. The prince requested Guy's company after the meal, leaving Adelaide to walk up to their chamber alone. Quickly, she undressed, washing up in the clean water she had had Mary bring up before settling by the fire with a fur her only covering. She found herself unable to relax, her whole body quivering with need for Guy. She jumped up to pace the room, the fur still wrapped around her shoulders, and thought about how very different Guy was from Lord Henry. Lord Henry had been older than her by decades and his coloring had been pale; Guy's dark good looks had turned many a woman's eye. Where Lord Henry had reveled in her pain, Guy was careful to give her pleasure. She was shocked to find that his extreme caution annoyed her sometimes, that she actually enjoyed a certain level of pain when Guy was with her—like the time he had gotten carried away while suckling her nipple and bit it. He had been apologetic, while she had merely been frustrated that he had stopped. Knowing that Guy had no desire to cause her pain lent a certain thrill to it when he _did _accidentally pull her hair too hard or thrust fully into her too soon. She found it ironic that the wanton woman Lord Henry had tried to beat his wife into being was instead responding to Guy's warmth and compassion.

Adelaide paced back and forth in the small chamber. As Guy was the prince's favorite and they were a newly married couple, she and Guy were one of the few who actually had a private room; even so, Adelaide missed the spaciousness of her own rooms in Mablethorpe. She was frustrated that they yet resided in Fulham, under the prince's careful—and leering—eye. She wanted to go home, to begin their life together as man and wife in their own place, and while Mablethorpe would always hold dark memories of her former lord, Adelaide had worked hard over the past decade to make it more hers than his. She could only imagine how much better the place would be after the next decade under the hand of her new husband.

She was standing by the window, staring out at the woods, when the candles flickered in a cross-draft. She turned to find Guy standing in the doorway; his face held the intensity of a predator that has finally cornered its prey. Adelaide moved away from the window and dropped the fur to the ground, shivering in anticipation as Guy closed the door and stepped into the room.

* * *

Guy leaned back against the oak head-board of the bed, Adelaide nestled in his arms, her finger idly swirling the hair on his chest. It had been over a month since Adelaide had first given herself to him, and she had grown more comfortable with him every day. Where Lord Henry had wanted only her compliance, Guy seemed interested in her honesty. Most men she knew were cruel, but Guy was always well-mannered, at least with her. There were times when she looked into his face when she would catch an unguarded look of longing and sadness, and she wondered what brought the looks on. Perhaps it had something to do with what the ladies had said earlier—about there being no Gisbourne lands. Adelaide took a deep breath, deciding to do something which Lord Henry would have beaten her for—she asked Guy what bothered him.

"Guy, the prince said that you needed lands. You know, before, when he was arranging our marriage. What happened to the Gisbourne lands?"

Under her hand, she felt his chest tighten, heard the sharp inhalation of his breath.

"It is something I prefer not to speak of," he answered her harshly.

Hearing the anger in his voice, Adelaide was afraid of Guy for the first time in a long time. She back-tracked quickly, as two years under Lord Henry's tutelage had taught her to do.

"I am sorry, My Lord. Please forgive my boldness." She stayed where she was, curled against him, wary of movement. Movement attracted attention. Movement led to beatings, to violation.

Guy felt her body stiffen; her answer lacked the hard-won informality that had grown up between them. He sighed, kissing the top of her head.

"It is I who am sorry, Addy." He purposefully used her pet name, to put her back at ease. "I should not have snapped at you. It is a good question, one my wife deserves to have the answer to. It is…difficult to think of."

"As difficult as…" Adelaide stopped, wishing her tongue could be put under lock and key sometimes.

Guy moved his head to stare down at her.

"'As difficult as…'" he retorted.

"Nothing. I understand if you have no wish to speak of it."

"Adelaide…" His voice was deep with censure. "Tell me," he commanded.

It was Adelaide's turn to sigh.

"I am sorry, Guy. I wondered if it were as difficult to speak of as beatings, beratings, and violations. As difficult to speak of as your husband showing to others what should be private between you. Or of the terror when there was nowhere to turn, no one to protect you from the one who should have _been_ your protector. I shared my pain with you, and it has made it more bearable. I thought that maybe…"

The silence stretched, and Adelaide was once more on edge, waiting for the back of his hand to find her cheek; waiting for Guy to reach in and grab her tongue as Lord Henry had once done in front of others, claiming that he had not tired it out enough apparently if she still had the use of it, and that he would cure that oversight forthwith, leading her from the hall to an alcove behind a tapestry and forcing her to take him in her mouth then and there, being careful to make a lot of noise in the process. He had then led her back to the hall and handed her a napkin to clean the corner of her lips as her cheeks flamed hot in embarrassment. She heard a low rumbling sound in the midst of her horrible reverie, and under her hand, Guy's chest was shaking. She looked up, surprised at the sound of his derisive laughter, to see a crooked grin on his face.

"I suppose when you put it like that…You are right, Addy. You have shared your past with me. It is only fitting that I share my past with you." Guy sighed and closed his eyes, seeming to try to gather the strength to say the words.


	38. Chapter 38: Restless

**A/N: If you have not seen S3, there are some spoilers in this chap. **

Chapter Thirty-eight: Restlessness

"I was born in France," Guy began, opening his eyes and staring at the end of the bed. "My father was a second son who had no inclination for the priesthood, although he was made to study for many years before his father allowed him to take up arms instead. He and my mother, Ghislaine, had known each other as children, and later fell in love as adults. The problem was, Ghislaine was betrothed to my uncle. My father and mother spoke to both of their fathers, trying to change their minds, but my uncle refused to give up his claim. Before she could be married to my uncle, my mother took secret vows with my father and was soon pregnant with me. My uncle was furious, as were my grandfathers, who threw them out to make their way on their own. My father went to the court of the old king and offered his services. When the king saw how well and fiercely my father fought, he took him on, later knighting him. It was many years before my father was rewarded with land, the village of Locksley, in England. Unfortunately, a Saxon already owned it, a man named Malcolm, whose son Robert was not happy at losing his inheritance."

Guy paused, closing his eyes once more before focusing on the fire in their fireplace.

"My father had gone to fight in the king's war. We were told he had died. You can imagine our shock when he came home, sick with leprosy. He was cast out, sent to live with the other lepers. There was a fight, a fire; my parents both died in it, as did Robert's father. My younger sister, Isabella, and I fled back to France, where my uncle took us in. It was…unpleasant…living with him until we were of an age to leave. The king sent me to England, as he had my father, and I arranged a good marriage for Isabella. So now you know."

* * *

Guy had left for the day, off tending to his men and the horses. Adelaide lay yet abed when Mary came in to wake her mistress.

"Good Morning, Milady," she chimed out cheerily, opening the window coverings and stoking the fire.

Adelaide yawned and stretched, sitting up in the bed and pulling the bedcovers up to cover her naked breasts. She reached up a hand to try to tame her tousled hair, then stretched over to grab her pouch. Mary watched in consternation as her mistress reached in and pulled something out of the pouch; she placed the item in her mouth, washing it down with water but making a face nonetheless. Mary's eyes widened in understanding; she had seen that face on her mistress every day for two years straight.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed at Adelaide, who stared at her a moment, uncomprehending.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Although they were alone, Mary looked around her before leaning in to whisper, "What are you doing taking Queen Anne's lace seeds?"

"Mary, I know that Guy seems nice—here, before his prince. I trust him more than I've ever trusted any man, but what if he is different when we get to Mablethorpe?"

"What if he is not? And what does it matter, either way? He is your husband now. Even if he is not the same man when we get home, I doubt he will be the monster Lord Henry was. It is your duty to give him children."

At her charge's mutinous look, Mary added, "Besides, have you thought of what his reaction will be if he finds out?"

Adelaide's face fell. Guy had spoken of starting their family, but not very often. Adelaide assumed that he kept his own counsel mostly because he had no wish to hurt her feelings, particularly if he recalled their earlier conversation where she had insinuated that she might be barren. She felt guilty using the contraceptive seeds, guiltier for hiding it, but keeping secrets was a habit she had gotten into when she had been married to Lord Henry, and was a hard one to break. She did not know which would displease Guy more, the fact that she was keeping secrets or the fact that she was trying to prevent herself from getting pregnant.

"I know, but I cannot bear the thought of it just now, Mary. We leave for Nottingham shortly, so that he may check on his lands in Locksley before we go home. Once we are in Mablethorpe, I will let nature take its course."

* * *

Deirdre was drifting off to sleep, Tom contentedly sleeping in the small bassinet that his "Uncle" Will had fashioned for him, when she heard Allan enter the room and begin undressing. Quickly, he moved under the covers, reaching over to snuggle into Deirdre for warmth. His hand rested on her hip and he sighed; before long, he was nuzzling her neck, his hand moving to other, more interesting, parts of her body. She could feel his erection pressing against her bottom as his finger slipped between her soft folds.

"Ow! Allan, stop. You know what Madeline said—two months, at least," Deirdre hissed at him.

Allan had moved his hand away quickly at her exclamation of pain, stroking the front of her hip and thigh instead.

"Ain't it been two months, yet?" he whined. "Feels like it's been more'n that."

"No. Now let me get some sleep before Tom wakes up," Deirdre muttered grumpily. How could she explain to Allan that she wanted him nearly as badly as he wanted her, but that she was tired all the time, and still a bit sore from bringing their son into the world? She closed her eyes, beginning to dream of Allan making love to her, and promptly fell out of the dream and into a deep sleep.

Allan frowned, feeling caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. He loved Deirdre, and even if he had not taken vows, would not wish to lie with some whore just to ease his body. It was a sin to ease his own needs himself, particularly now that he was married, and Deirdre was still just too exhausted to help. He lay down to try to sleep, picturing the sheriff naked to try to calm his raging hormones, nearly making himself sick in the process.

* * *

Morning found Allan outside, volunteering to check the traps despite the bitter cold. Will came with him, to keep him company.

"What's it like, being married?" Will asked innocently.

Allan shook his head from the near-trance the cold and quiet had instilled.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, you and Deirdre, now Robin and Marian—did things change between you two when you got married?"

Had he been one of the men Allan had once spent time with, he would have made a bawdy comment about having more sex with her—other than recently—but Will was still so young and innocent and Allan liked the young man, so he had no desire to embarrass him.

"With Robin and Marian, they're from the same world, so I don't imagine things've changed that much for them. Me and Deirdre, we're from two different worlds," Allan began.

"Like me and Djaq?" Will put forth eagerly.

"Kinda. I mean at least we're from the same _part_ o' the world, though, eh?"

He grinned at Will, who returned the smile tentatively. A thought came to Allan's fuzzy brain.

"Wait a second! You ain't thinkin' o' askin' Djaq to marry ya, are ya?"

Allan watched the young carpenter's blush stain his cheeks, which were already red from the cold.

"Actually, she asked me already," he admitted.

Allan stopped, laughing out loud.

"That's our Djaq. Goin' after what she wants. So when's the happy day?"

"I told her we would marry when I could give her a better life," Will replied.

Allan's arms stretched to encompass their surroundings.

"What better life than to be lords of Sherwood?" he asked, then sobered at Will's serious expression.

"Do ya love 'er, Will?"

The young carpenter nodded his head.

"Then marry 'er soon. I almost lost Deirdre—twice now. O' course, one o' those times wouldn't 'ave 'appened if we wasn't married—the baby and all. The point is, if we hadn't've been married, I wouldn't've 'ad all that time with 'er, and if she 'ad…if she 'ad, you know…it would've been a worse shame."

"But wouldn't it hurt worse now?"

"If something were to 'appen to Djaq today, would it hurt worse than if it 'appened last month? At least now you'd 'ave more memories to 'elp you through. At least now, I'd 'ave Tom to 'elp me through. If you love 'er, Will, marry 'er. I never thought I'd be the kinda guy to wanna settle down, but there it is. I can't think o' my life now without Deirdre. Even if she does drive me round the bend sometimes," he added, grinning ruefully at the younger man.

Will returned Allan's smile with his own infectious grin as they stopped to check the first of the traps.

* * *

March came in like a lion, its cold roar freezing England's inhabitants in its icy paws. The gang kept busy, hunting food and collecting firewood for the weak and the sick in the villages during the day. Deirdre took her turn as well as she regained her strength and the restlessness once again set in. Little Tom went everywhere with his mother, winning the hearts of everyone who laid eyes on the beautiful baby. His eyes were turning a deeper blue, and his hair was growing in, a dark blonde the color of wet straw. He was a happy baby, grinning and gurgling most of the time, only crying when he was hungry or wet or cold. To the immense relief of his parents—and the gang—he began to sleep through the night, often sung to sleep by the sound of his parents' voices as Deirdre taught Allan more songs on the little harp.

Allan's voice began to ring truer with time and practice. He found a certain peace in the music when it washed over him, cleansing his soul of the stains he felt—both real and imagined. Will and Djaq sat companionably together, whittling arrows, and creating small figurines for the village children. Robin and Marian fletched the arrows and added the steel tips, sharing small secret smiles while they worked. Much and Little John slept a lot, bored to sluggishness. By the time April breathed its soothing breath on the frozen inhabitants of Sherwood, they were all eager for some action.

* * *

It was the first day of April and the prince had decided it was time for everyone to go home. As she and Mary packed, Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. _A quick stop in Locksley,_ Guy had said, _then on to Mablethorpe_. Part of her feared that Guy would become something else in Mablethorpe, but part of her could not wait to go, tired of the prince's leering gaze and the endless, senseless, nasty talk of the "ladies" she spent many of her days with.

She moved to the window, checking around the room where she had learned to trust a man again, making sure everything was in the travel boxes. She heard Guy's deep voice, bellowing commands to his men as he readied the carts to receive their burdens. Looking down, she caught the glint of sunlight as it danced on his black hair; seeming to feel her gaze, he turned and glanced up, a smile of such pure delight on his face that it took Addy's breath away. At that moment, she was utterly sure that Guy would remain as kind to her in Locksley and Mablethorpe as he had been here in Fulham. Her hand reached down to touch the pouch at her waist, the one that contained her eating knife and some personal effects, as well as the Queen Anne's lace. She felt her womb constrict as she looked down at her handsome, efficient husband—he would make a good father, she thought, and decided to throw out the seeds immediately upon their return to Mablethorpe. She had heard of and seen women who were unable to do anything in the later stages of their pregnancies, but had to lie abed lest they and their babies die. She knew it did not happen every time, but life had never really shown her too much kindness, and she had felt too lucky for too long with Guy. If her luck ran out, she had no desire to wind up staying in Locksley for another year while she carried their child and gave birth. Returning Guy's smile, she turned back to finish directing the packing, telling a couple of Guy's soldiers which boxes were ready to load onto the waiting carts.

* * *

In Sherwood, the roads were becoming more active as winter's icy grip slowly opened. The gang, restless for some action, had decided to go on a raid the next day. Deirdre was polishing her sword when Allan walked in from sword practice. He looked askance at her, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but what do you think yer doin'?"

"Díoltas* needs polishing, just in case I have to use her tomorrow," Deirdre replied.

"And why would you have to use your sword tomorrow?" Allan asked guardedly.

"Well, don't you have to threaten people on occasion when you rob them?" Deirdre returned sarcastically. Nearby, Marian and Djaq sniggered.

"Aye, but we usually do it with a bow and arrow, and we all know you'd put us who're with you in more danger than the people you was aimin' at with a bow in yer 'and. Besides, you ain't goin' tomorrow."

Deirdre had become more and more irritable as Allan had berated her ability with the bow; she knew she was a bad shot and it was a huge sore spot for her. When Allan had then pronounced that she would not accompany them on their first raid since Tom was born, it set her teeth completely on edge. She had promised not to put herself and the baby in unnecessary danger and to be a good little wife until the baby was born; now that Tom was here, she was itching to get back to thieving, even if the gang's way was a bit more overt than she had practiced. She rubbed Díoltas' fuller, cleaning the channel until it gleamed.

"I've done as you asked. I've stayed out of danger until the baby was born. The raid will be no more dangerous for you than it will for me."

"I doubt that, Luv. I'm in better shape'n you are, for one."

The other two women looked wide-eyed from Deirdre to Allan, who they figured had just written his death sentence with his tongue. Slowly they rose and cautiously made their exit from the cave to the relative safety outside. Deirdre rose, her eyebrows down-turned, her eyes glinting murderously.

"What did you say?"

Allan suddenly seemed to realize he had made a huge mistake, but knew if he backed down from Deirdre, she would walk all over him for the rest of their lives.

"I said I'm in better shape than you," he replied haughtily.

"What would make you believe that?"

"Well, for one thing, I been practicin' with my sword while you been feedin' and swaddlin' young Tom."

"What's the other thing?"

"What?"

"You said 'for one thing'. What's the other thing?"

"Well, it's been over two months now, and you still can't…you know," Allan finished lamely.

"Who says I _can't_," Deirdre shot at him, emphasizing the last word.

"You mean, you…you…" Allan spluttered angrily.

Deirdre smiled benignly at him, and verbally led him to where she wanted him to be.

"If I prove that I can still handle a sword, can I come tomorrow?"

Martin had taught her well, called her a natural; she was sure that despite the months without practice, she would be able to give a good account of herself.

Allan crossed his arms stubbornly. "I don't think so, Luv."

"Scared?" Deirdre taunted.

"Well, o' course I ain't scared."

"You pick the opponent. If the gang agrees that I make a good showing, I get to go." Deirdre leaned heavily on the sword, pretending its weight was just a bit too much for her. She held out her hand, allowing the sword to drop to the cave floor.

"Oops, I guess I am a bit out of shape. I can still do it, though."

She raised her chin in defiance, allowing it to tremble just a bit. Allan's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he looked at her. Quickly, he clasped her hand and pulled her in to him.

"You. Ain't. Goin'."

"Let me show you I can look after myself, Allan. Please. I need this"

Allan knew it was foolish to agree, but found himself unable to put his foot down when she looked so lost and forlorn, so in need of reassurance. He knew some of what she felt, the fear engendered when one went from being utterly independent to having to rely on others, having them rely on you. He sighed heavily.

"Fine. But if the gang thinks you ain't ready, you stay. Understood?"

"Yes!" She nodded vigorously, nearly squealing in delight as she followed Allan outside where he chose her opponent.

* * *

Allan sat in the dirt, carefully rubbing the bird's-egg that was forming on the back of his head. In the end, he had come to the conclusion that he was the only one who would not go easy on her. Of the swordsmen and –women amongst them, Much was afraid of her, Djaq and Marian might go easy on her because she was a fellow woman, and Robin would go easy on her because she was a new mother. Only he would give it his all, in an effort to save her from herself.

At first, it had seemed like he would win handily, and he had grown confident that his wife would be staying safely at the cave, to begin the packing for the move back to the summer camp which would happen before month's end. His natural cockiness had shone through as she had stopped to lean on her sword, breathing heavily. From nowhere, a calm had settled over her and she had attacked, using the same baiting method on him that he had used on Robin to defeat him. Her attack had been swift and brutal, the sword planted wherever she wanted it; watching her was like watching one of the old Celtic war goddesses he had learned of in the songs she had taught him. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, looking up at her non-plussed, as he rubbed the knot on his head.

She stood over him, the sunlight streaming around her like a halo, the sword at his chest.

"I. Am. Going." She echoed his earlier words of denial on purpose, striding away as the gang snickered.

"So who's stayin' with Tom?" he called after her.

"Draw straws," she called back nonchalantly over her shoulder.

* * *

*Vengeance

* * *

**A/N: Did you like this chapter? What worked or didn't? Please read and review--I value your opinions. Thanks! WW :)**


	39. Chapter 39: Reunions

Chapter Thirty-nine: Reunions

They had drawn straws earlier in the night, and both Djaq and Marian had pulled the short sticks; the women had raised eyebrows at the men, suspecting a fix, but smiled at the realization that they would get to look after Tom, who was cooing and squealing in delight as his father blew kisses on his belly. Soon, Tom began squalling in earnest, hungry for his dinner. Deirdre picked him up and took him to their room to nurse him and put him down to sleep for the night before lying down herself. Allan joined them soon, snuggling to his wife as Tom slept soundly in his bassinet.

* * *

Water dripped from the trees, the melting of the last of winter's snow mingling with the usual spring rain to make travel excruciating. The road was fouled with mud, the detritus on the sides of the road slippery. The steady downfall of the rain pattered on the leafy canopy above before falling on the heads of its hapless victims below. The scent of the new growth mingled with the scent of the mud and of the rain; the earthy smell assailed the nostrils of those who waited in the trees. With no sun in view, there was no way to tell how much time had passed, but it seemed like it had been hours they had stood in the same spots getting soaked to the skin.

Every time she looked up, water ran off the cowl of her cloak and soaked her face, and her feet were frozen from standing in the damp leaves of last fall; she should have been uncomfortable and unhappy, but Deirdre O'Niall A' Dale had not felt so alive in months. It was the first raid of the year, the first one Deirdre had been allowed on since they had found out she was pregnant, the first one she had been on since the ill-fated one that had almost taken both her and her unborn child's lives. Her sword felt good in her hand, right. She would wait until dark if she had to without complaint, despite her discomfort. Her breasts ached from the need to nurse the baby, and she was glad for the rain which would mask her damp shirt.

Robin began to come out from behind his tree, preparing to call off the raid. As he moved to collect the gang, he stopped short and darted back behind a tree as the sound of horses approaching, struggling through the mud, became clear.

Everyone was suddenly on alert as the horses came into view over the top of the rise. The lead horse was a large chestnut with a narrow blaze that ended in a snip on his nose; his left fore and right hind leg were stockinged nearly to the knee, although not much of the stockings showed through the mud. He had the barrel chest and large eyes of an Arabian, but was taller by two to three hands easily. His movements were compact under the skilled hand of his rider, whose legs—despite the height of the horse—hung nearly to his mount's knees. He sat straight and tall, towering over his horse's head; the cloak he wore was brown, turned black by the rain. He looked straight ahead as he rode.

Two men flanked their leader; both were smaller, on smaller horses. The heads of these riders moved constantly, scanning the forest around them, searching for danger. None of them saw the camouflaged outlaws until they appeared, wraith-like with the rain masking the sounds of their feet, from the foliage on the side of the road.

As the gang appeared, the two smaller horses snorted in surprise; the big chestnut stopped but remained calm before snorting and whickering a greeting. Allan announced that this was a robbery and Robin supplied that if they were honest with the outlaws, the riders would only lose ten percent of their money, but if they were not, they would lose it all, including the horses and their clothing. The leader spoke then, his voice a deep baritone, his accent reminding them of Deirdre's.

"If you think you can take me from this horse, and take this horse from me, you are welcome to try," he challenged.

Deirdre's eyes went wide as she heard the voice and matched it to the mount. She approached the chestnut, Allan staying within reach at all times, nervously shifting on the balls of his feet. The big stallion whickered again, nodding his head toward Deirdre and reaching forward to place his muzzle in her hands as his rider stared in astonishment.

"It seems like your horse is ours for the taking," Robin put in sarcastically.

Deirdre was whispering something in Irish and suddenly threw her arms around the horse's neck; in the process, the cowl of her cloak fell back and the gang heard the sharply indrawn breath of the big man, who then swore and laughed, throwing back his own hood and jumping down from the horse. The man thusly revealed was black of hair, with blue eyes that sparkled in joy and strong, handsome features marred only by the white line of a scar on the outer edge of his right eyebrow. He moved to embrace Deirdre, but found the sharp end of Allan's sword against his chest. He stopped, sparing Allan the barest of glances before returning his gaze to Deirdre.

"Deirdre O'Niall, as I live and breathe!"

"Ruarc O'Brian! I thought that was Aimhirghin²." Deirdre squealed in delight, ignoring Allan's quickly withdrawn sword as she launched herself into the large man's arms. He caught her easily, laughing and swinging her around before planting a kiss firmly on her mouth.

"Do you remember how you sang to his mother to calm her at his foaling?"

"It seems _he_ does," Deirdre replied, hugging the big man close, her feet still swinging in the air as Allan cleared his throat loudly.

"I'm not bein' funny, but would you mind puttin' my wife down?" he demanded, eyes squinting in anger.

"Wife? Ah, Deirdre, you've gone and killed me, you have! Tell me this is just a vicious lie!"

"It's true, Ruarc. Put me down so I can introduce you proper."

The enormous man, who even had a few inches on Little John, gently placed Deirdre on the ground, but kept his arm around her waist proprietarily. Allan noted that Deirdre had her arm around the man's waist as well, and his temper flared.

"Ruarc O'Brian, this is my husband, Allan A' Dale. Allan, this is Ruarc O'Brian, the brother of my heart."

"Brother, eh?" Allan still was staring suspiciously at the handsome giant. This_ is the man my son's named after? Great, just great_, he thought.

Ruarc laughed deeply, his blue eyes sparkling as he held out his hand to engulf Allan's, noting the shorter man's unease.

"You're right to be jealous, A' Dale. I'd steal her from you in a heart-beat if I thought I could."

The gang quickly went back into the fighting stances they had only just loosened up. Ruarc grinned broadly, exposing his large white teeth as the side of his mouth cocked up.

"Relax. I watched Deirdre turn away dozens of suitors. If she married someone finally, I don't think I could pry her away if I tried." He squeezed Deirdre close and smiled down at her and her answering smile lit up her face.

"You must come back to camp with us so we can get caught up," Deirdre offered.

Robin cleared his throat, looking at Deirdre as though she had lost her mind. When she looked away from Ruarc to him, Robin spoke.

"Deirdre, the camp is supposed to be secret."

"We could always blind-fold him," she begged.

Robin frowned and Allan stepped over, sword still trained on Ruarc, to give his opinion.

"I say we rob 'em and be on our way," he grumbled to Robin.

"Allan, that's so uncharitable of you! It's raining and we've a nice warm, dry home to offer for the night…"

Allan shook his head, eyebrows raised at his wife.

"The night? The night? Oh, 'e ain't stayin' the night, Deirdre. I've got news for you there."

Ruarc spoke up then. "Of course, I'll pay for my lodging. Double what you were going to take. And of course, there's the news to be shared."

Robin's ears perked up. "News? What news?"

Ruarc looked up at the gloomy skies, the leaves still dripping from the showers. "I'd prefer to share such around the warmth of a fire, if it's all the same to you."

Robin looked at the hopeful face of Deirdre, the angry face of Allan, and the solemn, wary expressions on the faces of Little John, Much, and Will. He sighed in aggravation.

"I'm sorry, Deirdre, but we cannot compromise everyone's safety…"

"Safety? Robin, this man was practically my brother!"

"And how long ago was that, Deirdre? Do you really know you can trust him? Would you trust your life to him? Allan's? Tom's? It's too risky and I won't allow it. We'll let them off since they're your friends, but there will be no trip to camp for them."

"Then I'm not going back, either!"

"Deirdre!" Allan and Ruarc exclaimed in unison.

"Lass, I appreciate your loyalty, but you mustn't behave so for me. Go back home with your husband. Although, maybe he'll let us sit here for a bit and catch up first?"

Ruarc looked hopefully over at Allan, who glared back, annoyed that Ruarc had to try to convince his wife to go back home with him.

"Deirdre, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Allan tried to sound as reasonable as her "brother" had, holding out his hand for her. Deirdre frowned and took a step toward him, reaching out to take his hand. Allan gently pulled her aside, speaking low so as not to be overheard.

"We've been gone too long, Luv. Tom'll be needin' his mam, yeah?"

Deirdre shifted uncomfortably, very much aware of the pain in her breasts as they filled too much with milk. She looked up—her eyes huge in her face, begging Allan to understand.

"Please, Allan. Ruarc was my big brother. When Da chose to come here, he stayed behind in Ireland. I haven't seen him in nearly ten years. Please, Allan, please speak to Robin for me, change his mind. Even if it has to be just Ruarc. I don't know the others. I want Ruarc to meet Tom—he's practically his uncle, after all, and _is_ his namesake. Please. For me?"

Deirdre's pleading had Allan's resolve softening. He hated denying her anything, but his male instinct led him to distrust such a handsome man being so friendly with his wife. He frowned, knowing that if he went against her in this, he would be finding his bed with the other bachelors tonight. Allan sighed and Deirdre knew she had won.

"All right, all right. I'll speak to Robin but no promises, and only Ruarc, understand?"

Deirdre squealed and jumped into Allan's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and nearly knocking him over in her enthusiasm.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are the best husband ever!"

"You mean the biggest chump ever. Now unwind yourself, woman, before I embarrass us right here and now and _prove_ to the man that I'm your 'usband."

* * *

Guy was surprised to find their trip through Sherwood was uneventful. He decided to ensconce Adelaide safely away at Locksley Manor before riding on to meet the sheriff and give him the news that he would need a new lieutenant. As he rode up the lane toward the house, he noted that the serfs would stare for just the slightest of moments longer than they should, curious about the wagon that their master escorted, before dropping their eyes hastily to the ground. Usually, he was satisfied by their reaction, their knowledge of their place, but he found the look uncomfortably like that Adelaide used to give to him, and knew it for fear. He found the knowledge of their fear, rather than being satisfying, was disturbing to him. As they pulled up to the manor, Thornton, who had been the reeve for so very many years, came out to greet him.

"Master Guy, how pleasant to see you," Thornton stated with the proper amount of courtesy.

"Thornton, I trust you are well."

"I am, My Lord. Locksley has survived the winter with minimal losses. I hope you will be pleased."

"We will speak of that later. For now," Guy added, striding toward the closed cart and opening the door, "I would like you to meet your new mistress, Adelaide of Gisbourne."

Adelaide took Guy's hand, letting him help her down, shaking her skirt out when her feet touched the ground. She looked up at Guy's reeve, finding a pleasant, sun-worn face with gentle blue eyes; she liked him immediately.

"Thornton, was it?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Lady Gisbourne, I am pleased to make your acquaintance," Thornton replied, recovering quickly from the shock of learning that Sir Guy was now married, and taking her hand, bowing low.

"I do hope our arrival will not disturb you too much," Adelaide apologized.

"No, of course not, My Lady. I trust your journey was well?"

"As well as can be, being bumped about in a cart that is traveling over muddy roads," Adelaide smiled at him.

Guy frowned. He had not realized that the trip had been so uncomfortable for her.

"Thornton, please see to the lady's things, and then have a bath drawn; we are dusty from the trip."

Thornton bowed low, smiling once more. "As you wish, My Lord," he replied before hurrying off to oversee the unpacking.

Guy took Adelaide's hand, leading her toward the hall.

"You must be weary from the trip, My Dear. Come inside and sit while the servants unpack. The bath will be ready for you soon."

Adelaide grimaced; she had been sitting on the covered bench of the carriage for the entire trip—the last thing she wanted was to sit some more. Guy felt her hesitation and turned, releasing her hand.

"What is it?"

"Perhaps you could show me around a bit first, so we can stretch our legs. I would very much like to see Locksley."

Guy smiled, his eyes warming instantly as he took her hand once more and threaded it through his arm, leading her away from the now-busy manor house.

* * *

**A/N: All right, gang! Here's the second chap this week. Let me know what you think of Ruarc, please!**


	40. Chapter 40: Lovesick

Chapter Forty: Lovesick 

Adelaide had awoken to a dreary, rainy day for her first full day in Locksley. There was to be a celebration for the return of their lord and his new marital status later in the day. The smell of roasting meat was already drifting up the stairs and the bed next to her was cold; Guy had never joined her last night. Fear drifted through Adelaide's brain at the thought that he had some lover he had preferred to spend the night with. She dressed slowly, loath to find Guy laughing with whatever woman he had tupped the night before, and headed down the stairs.

"Good morning, My Lady," Thornton greeted her.

"Good morning, Thornton," Adelaide responded.

"I hope you slept well." Adelaide nodded, coloring at his words, embarrassed that the servant likely knew whose bed Guy had slept in.

"The food smells excellent. Is it ready for my lord and I to break our fast?" It was the closest Adelaide could bring herself to asking where her husband was.

"Sir Guy has already eaten. He said to let you sleep in. Please, have a seat." Thornton gestured to a chair at the table.

Adelaide nodded, swallowing, and sat, finding herself without an appetite despite the delicious looking food set before her. She picked at it, forcing herself to swallow some so as not to offend the servants who looked like they were desperate to please her.

A moment later, Guy strode in, stopping in the doorway, blocking the meager light. He smiled as he looked at Adelaide sitting at _his_ table in _his_ home—_their_ home, he reminded himself, at least so long as the prince desired it. He strode forward to place a chaste kiss on her forehead, before sitting at the head of the table next to her.

Thornton stepped forward, ever observant, even in the midst of preparations for the welcome dinner.

"My Lord, do you require anything further?"

"Some wine will do, Thornton," Guy replied.

Thornton noticed Guy's rare relaxation and smiled as well, thinking that Lady Adelaide seemed to have a calming effect on their lord and master.

"Of course, My Lord," he said, placing a full goblet on the table and withdrawing to give the couple privacy.

Guy's smile faded as Adelaide continued to pick quietly at the food.

"Is something wrong with your breakfast?"

"No, My Lord."

Guy raised a sardonic eyebrow at her use of his title.

"You may call me Guy in front of my servants, Adelaide."

"Of course, My Lord Guy." Adelaide's answer so closely mimicked Thornton's that Guy frowned.

"Is something wrong, Adelaide?"

At her hesitation, Guy sighed. It seemed that Lord Henry had desired a wife who was always pleasing, even at the expense of honesty.

"Tell me what is wrong, Adelaide," he commanded.

Adelaide looked around her at the others gathered in the room. "I am sorry Sir Guy, but I would prefer to speak in private."

"Upstairs." Again, the word was a command, and Adelaide rose to obey it, as she had been trained to do.

Guy followed closely, closing the door to their bedroom as they entered and standing with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Adelaide to explain her downcast mood.

Adelaide crossed idly to the other side of the bed, subtly putting the furniture between herself and Guy.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Where did you sleep last night?" Adelaide mistook Guy's look of confusion for anger and quickly stuttered out, "I am sorry, My Lord, it is none of my business who you spend your nights with. It is just that…"

"You noticed I was not in our bed last night?" he asked.

Adelaide swallowed and nodded, ducking her head in embarrassment. Guy's laughter had her looking up at him quickly.

"And you missed me?" He seemed immensely pleased with himself at the thought as Adelaide nodded, her eyes huge in her face. Guy sobered as the words she had used struck him.

"You think I slept in someone else's bed?"

"I know you are well within your rights," Adelaide choked out.

Guy stepped forward quickly, touched that she would be jealous for him. He reached out a hand to take hold of her chin and force her to look up at him. Gently, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, tasting the salt as the tears began to roll down her face.

"There is no other," he claimed, his lips a breath away from hers. "I have taken vows to cleave only unto you and so I shall."

Guy closed the minute distance between their mouths again, using his other arm to pull her body against his. Adelaide felt his excitement and her own pulse quickened. With a sigh, Guy pulled slightly away, holding her close, but not crushing her, placing his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes.

'I spent the night going over the books Thornton has kept for me, seeing how Locksley fared over the winter. I fell asleep on the table—you may ask any of the servants."

"No. You have told me, and that is enough. How does Locksley?" Adelaide asked, striving to catch her breath as she gently extricated herself from his arms.

Guy took a deep breath and opened his eyes, pulling slightly away before answering. "Well enough. A handful of peasants and beasts lost to illness or injury, no more. There was not much profit, but it was winter. Planting has already begun and the sheep and cows are birthing. I will need to check the books when we get to Mablethorpe as well."

"Of course. I am sure you will find my reeve as competent as Thornton. I should see what I can do to help with the preparations for the festivities." With that, Adelaide breezed by him and went downstairs. Guy closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to smile happily. Locksley had not suffered many losses over the winter, his wife was jealous at the thought of a possible rival, and soon they would leave for Mablethorpe, where he expected to find the lands in a similar state of profitability. Guy felt like life was finally being kind to him—all that was left was for Adelaide to declare to him that she was carrying his child and all would be perfect.

* * *

Ruarc turned from leaving instructions with his men, who would go on to Nottingham and seek shelter there. He held out his arms and grinned broadly.

"Well, Lass, I believe you've a blindfold to put on me."

"_I'll_ do it," Allan interjected. "Sorry, Luv, but if he's a friend, you may go easy on 'im," Allan explained, taking the cloth from her hands.

Deirdre frowned. "Of course, Mo Croi, it's not like he's my _husband_ or anything," she replied sweetly, turning away on Ruarc's laugh.

"Too bad you didn't get to know my little 'arán is im' before you married her, A' Dale. Twould've saved you a bit o' trouble."

"First off, I got to know 'er fine—she's no trouble at all," Allan paused as the others snorted their derision. Deirdre actually looked offended by the mirth of the gang. Allan cleared his throat loudly and the gang all turned their heads away, trying not to choke on unreleased chuckles.

"Second, why would you call my wife, '_your_ little bread and butter'?"

"I see you've some Irish. You see that wee little bit you call your wife? Looks appetizing, don't she?"

Allan's gaze darkened dangerously at Ruarc's words, but the larger man went on, oblivious.

"Well, you look at her there and you say to yourself, 'My but that looks delicious.' You go over, pick it up, and find it's been left out too long and has gone stale. You shrug and take a bite anyway, as it still looks so good; that's when she breaks your teeth."

The gang released their pent-up mirth in great loud guffaws, as Allan and Deirdre glared at Ruarc.

"You know, Allan, I think I can handle blindfolding this one. He won't see anything. For quite some time if he keeps it up. Down!" she ordered, tearing the blindfold from Allan's shocked grasp.

Ruarc obeyed in mock fear, dropping to his knees in the mud and still grinning broadly, even as Deirdre straddled his legs and placed the cloth roughly over his eyes. He leaned his head back, pillowing it on her breasts and she slapped him hard on his skull.

"Move that great big empty space of yours or next time it'll be the pommel of my sword!"

"You know, Deirdre, 'e don't 'ave to come back with us…" Allan began.

"Oh yes, he does!" Deirdre growled her reply. "We've catching up to do and we're going to do it!"

Ruarc actually grunted, but the smile never left his face, as Deirdre jerked the two ends of the blindfold before making another knot and repeating the process; she cuffed the side of his head for good measure.

"Give me a length of rope!" she demanded and Robin quickly complied, watching in amusement as Deirdre forcefully bound the large warrior's wrists behind his back.

"Get up!" she commanded. Ruarc rose so quickly that his legs tripped Deirdre, knocking her to the ground. In the process, he also lost his footing, landing with his face conveniently nestled between her breasts. Deirdre grabbed a handful of black hair and yanked as Allan reached for Ruarc's shoulders to pull him off of Deirdre.

"Are you sure that blindfold's on right?" he demanded.

Ruarc's trouble-making grin had never left his face.

"I do love it when you're so aggressive, Mo Firéad."

"You've been calling me a ferret since we were children and I've been telling you to stop for nearly as long…" Deirdre began, only to be cut off by more laughter from the others.

"You have to admit," Much put in, "it does suit you."

"Cute and cuddly on the outside…" Deirdre made a mental note to chastise her husband for his sudden participation once she was done with Ruarc.

"…but a slippery little escape artist with lots of sharp teeth and claws," Robin finished, an amused look on his face.

Little John just stood shaking his head, unable to catch his breath for laughing and Will was grinning broadly but ducked his head when Deirdre met his eyes.

"You'll all pay for this," Deirdre threatened, capturing each man's gaze and pointing at them.

"See, mean just like a ferret, too," Much finished, smiling innocently at her before turning to gather his things.

* * *

The march back to camp took longer than it normally would have. The rain made the going slow to begin with and the gang made sure to take a serpentine path back in order to further confuse their guest. It was nearly sunset and the rain had finally stopped when they came into view of the cave.

Marian and Djaq were inside, little Tom Ruarc A' Dale nestled contentedly in the bassinet his "Uncle" Will had made for him. As his mother came near, he cooed in delight.

Deirdre picked Tom up and quickly put him to her aching breast; soon, sounds of contented suckling were heard and Deirdre's head dropped back in relief. Allan sat by his wife and son, smiling lovingly at the two of them, stroking the back of Tom's head even as the baby put a hand against his father's arm, the little fingers kneading at the flesh. Ruarc, who had been unbound by Little John, came near, smiling down benignly on the scene.

"I always knew you'd look good with a babe in arms, Deirdre," he stated softly. His voice held the faintest trace of sadness and Deirdre looked up at him, searching his face, finding raw pain for just a moment before he put his mask of naughtiness back on.

"Of course, I usually pictured you making the babies instead of feeding them," he added, turning away to flirt with the other women.

Allan's back stiffened and Tom snorted, giving a little cry at the sudden tension in his parents. Deirdre cooed to him, putting him back on her nipple, and with a contented sigh, he began suckling again.

"Allan," Deirdre reached out to her husband, trying to calm him as well. "He doesn't mean anything by it. I admit, he's coarser than the boy I knew, but…'

"But what, Deirdre? That don't give 'im the right to say things like that." Allan was incensed, and Deirdre couldn't really blame him.

"I'll finish feeding Tom and I'll talk to Ruarc. Who knows what he's been through?"

"Aye, and 'e don't know what we been through, either, Deirdre. Either 'e stops flirtin' with you or I plant him in the ground."

"Fair enough. Just let me talk to him first."

Allan frowned, but nodded in agreement as Tom reached out and grabbed his finger.

* * *

That night, they talked around the fire. Ruarc told them all how he and Deirdre had met when Deirdre had come to live at her father's newly erected castle. Deirdre had been ten years old, Ruarc thirteen. Ruarc had been appointed her protector by Fàelàn O'Niall when the older man had noticed that the two children were often seen together, usually fighting back-to-back against gangs of other children. Ruarc had remained her sour protector—after all, he was far too grown up to play knight to the ten, eleven, and twelve year-old Deirdre O'Niall—for many years.

On Deirdre's thirteenth birthday, the sixteen year-old's attitude had begun to change; Deirdre's mother had insisted that she dress, "like a lady" for the occasion. Poor Ruarc had nearly choked when he realized his young friend had grown breasts; he had also nearly choked every other male in the building who had begun to take note of the same. From that day on, Ruarc had become Deirdre's dutiful, smiling champion, except when her father began to accept possible suitors to the hall. He had lived in fear that one of the older men would catch her eye, and was torn between wanting to go off and prove himself in battle in order to be worthy of asking for her hand, and wanting to stay close lest one of the men try to force his attentions on her. Three years later, Fàelàn O'Niall left Ireland to settle on the west coast of England. Ruarc left the O'Niall's service to travel Ireland and abroad, hiring out his sword to whoever needed it. They had not seen each other since.

In the ensuing years, Ruarc had seen many battles, mostly clan skirmishes, and had the scars to show for it, the one on his right eyebrow being the most obvious. He had also grown from a gangly, awkward teen-ager to a well-muscled, handsome man. He had the Irish gifts, though, telling tales of his triumphs which had Much, Will, and Djaq all sitting wide-eyed, and later joining his voice to Deirdre's in an old Irish lullaby when Tom began to fuss, his deep baritone softly embracing her lighter tenor, weaving a spell which had the baby—and many of the gang—yawning in no time. As the others took to their bed-rolls, Deirdre gave Tom to Allan, asking her husband to bring the baby to their room. Allan raised his eyebrows at her, but complied, returning in less than a minute to sit beside his wife.

"So, why did she choose you, A' Dale?"

Allan stiffened at Ruarc's words, angry that someone he didn't even know would insinuate that he was not good enough for Deirdre, despite the fact that he wondered the very same thing himself sometimes.

At Deirdre's sharp look, Ruarc at least had the good sense to look sheepish as he shrugged at her; her earlier request that he "behave himself" was already becoming difficult.

"Allan is a good man, Ruarc. He's intelligent and kind, and he makes me laugh," Deirdre answered for Allan.

"Sorry, Lass. I just can't help but believe that there's no one good enough for you." Ruarc's "apology" sounded sincere, his voice rough with emotion. He cleared his throat.

"Tell me how it came to be that you're sitting here now, married, and her da has not made her a widow."

Together, Deirdre and Allan told Ruarc of their meeting, their "courtship" and their first and second weddings.

"Allan has saved my life on more than one occasion, Ruarc. I love him." Deirdre smiled at Allan, who returned her smile.

"And she's saved me, too." He kissed her gently on the mouth, whispering, "I love you," against her lips.

Ruarc cleared his throat uncomfortably, yawning and stretching. "I guess I'm to bed, then," he declared, lying down beside the dying fire.

He closed his eyes until Deirdre and Allan had left the main chamber, and then he got up and quietly stalked out of the cave.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked this chap and learning more about Ruarc. Please review! :)**


	41. Chapter 41: Heartbreak

Chapter Forty-one: Heartbreak

The moon was nearing full, and the light was enough for Ruarc to make out the blood on his fist and on the tree he had just punched in frustration. He had wanted her for years—if he was honest with himself, he had wanted her since he first laid eyes on her, but had been unable to admit it until her thirteenth birthday. He remembered how she had looked, coming down the stairs of the Norman-style castle her father had had built so recently. She had worn a sleeveless dress of deep, nearly royal, blue worked through with silver thread over her snow-white leine; the girdle which tightened the dress and made it so obvious that Deirdre was now a woman was white shot through with silver as well. Her fingers, wrists, and neck were adorned in silver jewelry, beaten into the curlicues of Celtic scroll-work. Her hair had been brushed until it shone like spun gold, held back by a circlet of silver draped on the sides and back with white and blue wild flowers. She had smiled tentatively as she had descended the stairs, the smile becoming warmer and more confident as she had caught his gaze and held it, until it seemed the very sun shone from her face. That was the day he had _known_ he was in love with her, and the day he had known he could never have her.

"There's my princess," Fàelàn O'Niall had declared proudly. "Look at her, Brianna! Our daughter. With my contacts, she'll marry a prince and rule a kingdom one day!"

At the proud words of Deirdre's father, Ruarc's hope had died, and the next three years had been spent in slow decay until the O'Niall's had left Ireland. Even then, Ruarc had tried, bringing his suit to Fàelàn, hoping Deirdre would remain behind as his wife. O'Niall had snorted in derision.

"Ruarc, I know you two have been great good friends, but you are not thinking with your _mind_," Fàelàn had declared. "She is young and beautiful, and our house is not one to be ashamed of. She could even become a queen! You would keep her from such a high destiny? For what, Ruarc? Your father is a cattle lord. You would have her rule a rath with you when she could rule a castle? Perhaps even a kingdom? If you truly care for her, forget her. Stand out of the way of her destiny."

Ruarc had stood aside, but he had never forgotten the feisty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl of his heart. He had lain with other women, of course, but every one was short, with yellow hair and blue eyes; when he cried out in passion, it was_ her_ name he called. Now, ironically, she was here—not even the queen of the little band of outlaws, just a princess or perhaps a countess—married to a commoner who should have been long dead. Ruarc would have gladly helped him to meet his over-due appointment with Death, were it not for the love that shone in Deirdre's eyes when she looked at A' Dale. It stung that the man hadn't even provided her with a hut, let alone a castle or a manor—they lived in the forest, and spent half the year in a cave, hunted like animals. I_ could've given her more than that_, Ruarc thought darkly. _I could've given her a proper home, a proper life, a life of comfort! Why did I listen to her father? She should've been _mine_!_ _The child should be _mine_!_ Ruarc slammed his hand into the tree again, biting his lip on the welcome physical pain.

"Ruarc? Is that you?"

The soft voice startled him; he was not usually a man to be startled. He kept his back to her, leaning against the tree for support.

"I couldn't sleep. Don't let me disturb you. Go back…to your husband." The last bit nearly choked him and he had to fight to swallow the bile that rose in his throat.

"Ruarc? What's wrong?"

Deirdre had heard the hard edge to his voice, and could not understand it. The last time she had seen him, she had been a girl, and completely uninterested in such things as love; she had never seen the feelings he had for her. She reached up to touch his shoulder, feeling the massive muscles bunch and tighten. She pulled herself around, inserting herself between Ruarc and the tree when he remained as immobile as that very oak. Glimpsing the bunched-up fist, she exclaimed at the blood on his knuckles.

"What have you done?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You're hurt. Let me tend it. Come on."

Taking his injured hand and ignoring his protests, Deirdre led Ruarc to a nearby rill, an offshoot of her favorite stream that was nearer the camouflaged camp Will had made. She sat him down on a fallen tree-trunk and dipped the hem of her shirt into the icy water, wringing it out before coming to him to cleanse his wound. She knelt before him and he wasn't sure if he sucked in his breath at the pain to his hand or the sight of her there, prostrate before him, tending to his wound.

"There's oak sap in the cuts," she accused, holding his hand out into the path of the moonlight.

"I didn't see the tree, ran into it." He knew it sounded feeble, but how could he tell her he had hit the tree out of jealousy?

"Bréagadóir! Now tell me the truth."

"I cannot, Deirdre."

"Tell me, Deartháir*."

Her voice was soothing, as was the cool touch of her fingers. She smelled of spices and mother's milk, a seductive combination to the man who had wanted to marry her, had wanted her to bear his children. Ruarc knew it was wrong, but could not seem to stop himself. He cupped her jaw in his strong, calloused hand and bent his head to touch her lips with his, pulling her close and claiming her as his tongue pushed into her mouth. Immediately, she tried to push him away, but he was as solid as a mountain. Just as he released her, he felt the bite of cold steel against his neck.

"The only reason you're alive is 'cause she looks to you like a brother. Don't know what things are like in your family, Mate, but in mine, we look to roll women who are _not _our sisters."

"Allan, what are you doing here?" Deirdre looked up at Allan's enraged countenance fearfully.

"I saw you go out. Wanted to be sure you was okay. Did you two plan to meet up, Deirdre?"

Deirdre's shock was mirrored on Ruarc's face.

"No!" they spluttered in unison.

"Then why, Deirdre? Tell me why I saw you walk up to him like it was no surprise. Tell me why I watched you lead him away by the hand to this place; watched you kneel before him and kiss him…" Allan's voice broke on the last part.

"Allan, no! I couldn't sleep so I decided to step outside and clear my head. On my way out, I noticed his pallet was empty, so I was unsurprised to see him outside. I took his hand and led him here…"

Allan's eyes closed in pain at her admission.

"I took him here because his hand was wounded and I had no wish to disturb the others to clean it. I knelt to better see the wound."

"And the…the kiss?"

"That was on me," Ruarc spoke up. "I kissed her, she did not kiss me."

"Allan, it's you I love. You are my life. Mo croi."

"But nothin' like a little action on the side, eh?"

"Allan, you are the only man I have ever lain with, the only one I ever _want _to lie with. You must believe me!"

"A' Dale, I would do nearly anything to take her from you, but not at the price of her happiness. Deirdre has never been one to play with the heart of one she truly cares for, and I have never seen her happier than I have with you. Kill me if you must, but don't blame Deirdre for my foolishness."

Deirdre looked up at Allan, tears glinting in her eyes. Allan looked at Ruarc, bent down to help Deirdre to her feet, and held her close. He pointed the sword at Ruarc.

"_You_ leave at first light. And don't ever darken our doorway again." Angrily, he swung Deirdre around and stormed back to the cave with her.

* * *

Alone in their chambers, Allan pulled Deirdre to him, his mouth taking possession of hers. She knew Allan didn't like Ruarc, and that his opinion of the Irishman had not improved upon catching the man kissing her. Thinking of her jealousy of Djaq, she realized that the emotion did not have to make sense, and deepened their kiss as her own emotions washed over her. She wanted Allan, and for the first time in over two months, she felt invigorated rather than tired. She felt that somehow, if she proved to Allan it was _him_ she loved, he might change his mind and allow Ruarc to stay. Instinctively, she realized that Allan felt a need to claim her, to show—even if it was just to the two of them—that she was his. She let his hands grab at her, even if they were a little too rough; his kisses more punishment than pleasure.

Allan pulled her shirt over her head, quickly untying her pants and dropping them to the floor. He continued kissing her, leaving marks on the pale skin of her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, as his hands opened her thighs, allowing his fingers to delve into her warm center. At first, he felt the resistance as he pushed his finger into her; before long, her body began to grow wet and his finger slid in and out of her easily. The sound of her moaning in his ears was better than any music he had learned over the last months. He laid her on their pallet, quickly stripping off his own clothes before lying beside her. Her breasts were heavy as he gripped them, the milk sweet as he suckled at them; she nearly came up off the pallet as his hand moved down to once more stroke between her legs, and her whimpering increased with the rhythm of his fingers as he thrust them in and out of her once more. He moved to lay between her legs, eager as an untried boy, afraid he would embarrass himself by going as quickly as one.

Deirdre moaned; Allan's hands felt so good on her naked flesh after so long. As he slipped between her legs, she felt his erection throbbing at her entrance and panicked for just a moment; Madeline had said the first time after the baby would hurt, more than her _first_ time had.

"Go slowly, Allan, please," she whispered in his ear.

She felt the shudder wrack his body and knew it was taking all his willpower to obey her request. Gradually, he pushed against her, and began to enter her body. Deirdre hissed in pain, her nails biting into Allan's shoulders. He stopped and looked at her, concern mixed with the desire in his eyes.

"D'you need me to stop?" he asked, his voice nearly a whimper.

Deirdre swallowed and shook her head, and Allan continued to push into her, taking his time, pulling out slowly to re-enter her body, helping her to adjust once more to his girth. As he stroked gently into and out of her, she found the pain going away, being replaced by pure pleasure; her hips found the ancient rhythm and her heels locked around the small of his back as she began to buck underneath him.

Allan wanted to last, but it had been too long, and as he felt her begin to flutter around him, squeezing him in a grip like a velvet vise, he lost control, burying himself in her and crying out against her throat as he filled her body with his seed. When they could breathe again, Allan rolled off of her, pulling her to him and covering them with the blankets.

"I love you, Deirdre," he whispered against her head.

"I love you too, Allan," she murmured against his chest, falling asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, a contrite Ruarc was led away by Robin and Will. His farewell to Deirdre was awkward, with all the outlaws watching and Allan in particular standing ready to intercede.

"We will meet again, Ruarc, one day," Deirdre whispered in his ear.

"Not if your husband has his way," he mouthed back, doing his best to smile as his heart tore into a million pieces again.

* * *

The party had gone well, the sheriff notable by his absence—laid up in Nottingham with an illness. Guy had sent word that he would visit within a handful of days to see that the sheriff was better. He had left Adelaide out of it, knowing that a man like the sheriff would frighten his poor wife; Vasey would feed off of Adelaide's fear and Guy would wind up with a hysterical wife before they left Nottingham. It was better if Adelaide never met the sheriff.

In the meantime, the peasants, who had been tentative at first, had filled their bellies at the urging of Guy and Adelaide; there had been music and dancing, and the children had played games. Toward evening, Guy had taken Adelaide's hand and led her inside, bidding the peasantry to continue the revelries. Too soon, he would have to visit Nottingham and the sheriff would verbally emasculate him; he needed the comfort of Addy's body, the gentleness of her soul, to bolster him for that day.

* * *

Ruarc had wandered around Sherwood and its villages for two days. He had made a fool of himself and angered Deirdre's husband, but he had found himself unable to leave so soon after finally finding Deirdre again. And so, he had skulked around the forest and wandered around the villages, talking to people, learning what he could from first-hand accounts about Robin Hood and his men. The peasants confirmed the stories he had heard in camp—that Allan A' Dale had once left the outlaws and gone to work for the sheriff. He learned that the villagers were still uneasy around him, but that they spoke of Deirdre with great affection; many of them had family who lived in Nottingham and had been saved from starvation and illness the previous winter due to Deirdre's generosity. Ruarc was not surprised—having been dirt poor as a child, Deirdre would feel the plight of these people very closely. She had always been generous to a fault, even before her father had married her mother and made her quite a rich little girl. From what he could gather, A' Dale was lucky he was married to Deirdre or—forgiveness from Robin or not—most of the villagers would have strung him up as soon as look at him for his betrayal. He learned a lot in two days, enough to make him decide that he and his men would stay in Nottingham for a bit longer.

* * *

* Brother


	42. Chapter 42: Betrayal

**A/N: Thanks to whatsthefracas for taking her precious time to look over my work and keep me from looking silly with awkward misspellings and what-not--you're the best!**

* * *

Chapter Forty-two: Betrayal

Deirdre blinked sleepily as Tom began whimpering; it seemed to her that the boy slept more in the day than he did at night lately. With a sigh, she rolled over and picked him up, putting him to her breast to try to quiet him. He rooted around, suckled for a moment and then released her nipple on a cry. Deirdre checked his wrappings, changing them when she found them wet, but Tom still continued to wail. Allan began stirring, so Deirdre bundled up herself and Tom, deciding to take him for a walk—being outdoors always seemed to calm him when he was restless. She snuck past the sleeping gang, and out of the cave into the clear, cool evening.

The moon was now full, and Deirdre strode toward the stream—from past experience, she knew that the sound of the water would calm Tom best. She paced back and forth by the water, singing softly to the baby as she rocked him in her arms. It was the same lullaby she had sung less than a month before with Ruarc and her heart contracted, missing him horribly. She had loved him all her life, but never once—all right, maybe once—had she thought of him romantically.

* * *

Ruarc stumbled through the forest, determined to find the outlaws' camp so he could apologize to Deirdre and Allan, mostly to Deirdre. The light of the moon filtered between the thickening leaves of mid-Spring, allowing him to walk slowly, but unhindered along the narrow deer tracks. He had been searching for weeks, and knew many places where they _weren't_. The sound of water caught his ear and he strode toward it, remembering vividly the place where he had first placed his lips on Deirdre's. He came into view of the stream, nothing more than a brook really, disappointed that it was not the same one. He followed it upstream until it met with a slightly wider rill whose size was closer to the one he was looking for. Ruarc stopped often, listening for the sounds of nearby human habitation; rounding a corner, he could not believe his good luck—there it was, the very clearing. He recognized the fallen log—could still feel the rotting wood below his buttocks—and the jumble of the nearby rocks. He closed his eyes briefly to thank God, and opened them on an even more astonishing sight, his Irish luck holding out as Deirdre stepped from the trees, holding the babe, who was crying out fitfully.

Ruarc watched quietly as she began to pace back and forth by the side of the water, singing softly to calm the child. Her voice was soft and as true as ever, and Ruarc smiled tenderly at the beauty of the scene. He had imagined her like this for years, only the babe in her arms had, of course, been his. Not wanting to startle her and frighten the baby, he began to sing, low at first, allowing his voice to build steadily until it merged with hers, a seemingly natural occurrence.

Deirdre was singing to Tom when she heard the other voice, so low at first that she thought she must just be missing Ruarc and imagining his voice. As the sound increased though, she found herself looking quizzically around the clearing, searching. Before long, Ruarc stepped from the trees and Deirdre smiled happily at him as he strode toward her. Gently, so as not to wake him, she placed the sleeping Tom on the ground nearby and wrapped Ruarc in a bear hug.

"I'm sorry, Deirdre," he whispered against her hair. He felt his heart contract at her touch, but could no more stop his arms from going around her than he could stop the sun from rising in the morning.

"It's all right, Ruarc. We'll find a way around this. We have to."

Deirdre's response was slightly muffled, and he could feel her mouth moving against his chest. His groin contracted painfully as he thought of those lips on his naked flesh, and he pushed her an arm's length away, looking into her eyes and nodding solemnly before his infectious grin lit his face.

"You could always run away with me," he suggested hopefully, waggling his dark brows at her.

Deirdre slapped his massive chest lightly.

"Ruarc O'Brian, you're incorrigible! Even if I did, Allan would hunt me to the ends of the earth to save me."

He cocked his head to the side, still smiling.

"You didn't say no."

"No. There will come another way, I know it. The odds were completely against Allan and I being together, and yet we are. You and I will find a way."

He pulled her close, his hands on the small of her back as he pushed his erection against her belly.

"Mmmm," he growled against her forehead, "We should go somewhere else though, if we're to enjoy you breaking your vows. Your husband already knows about this spot."

Deirdre's eyes widened, feeling the size of his excitement against her belly. She pushed against the wall of his chest, and when that didn't work, grabbed his nipple and pinched hard.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, releasing her to rub the injured part. "Do I go around pinching _your_ nipples? I mean, I will if you ask me to, Darlin'." He grinned again, completely unapologetic, and Deirdre couldn't stay angry at him.

"I am not breaking my vows, you big stupid lout, so keep your massive paws to yourself!" She had begun the sentence with a straight, serious face, but halfway through, a grin had worked its way out, and by the end, she was laughing.

Ruarc held out his arms to her once more.

"I promise I won't bite. Unless you ask me to."

Deirdre rolled her eyes, but moved into his embrace, and the two stayed in companiable silence for a bit. Finally, Ruarc spoke, asking a question that had haunted him since he had met Allan A' Dale. He knew it might anger her, but he found himself unable to stop his tongue.

"Why him, Deirdre? Why some commoner?"

"What?" Deirdre pulled back slightly to look up at his face.

"If I had to come across you after all these years, and you had to be married, why was it not to an earl or a prince? That's what I gave you up for!" Ruarc's gaze searched hers, his nose pinched, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Gave me up? You never had me. You never asked."

Ruarc could have told her of the conversation with her father all those years ago, but he had learned in Nottingham that she had been disinherited. Knowing the affection the O'Niall and his eldest daughter shared, he realized that the pain of her father's betrayal must have cut deep. He refused to stain Deirdre's memory of her father even more, although he had made a mental note to track the older man down and have a discussion about paternal loyalty.

"And if I had?" he asked, mentally kicking himself once again for not ignoring her father's behest. For many years, he had chided himself for not going to her before the O'Nialls had left Ireland and making her stay—tying her up, impregnating her if he had to, to be certain no lord would have her. He had comforted himself with the thought that she was rich and comfortable with a powerful husband; the irony was not lost on him that _he_ was more rich and powerful by far than Allan A' Dale.  
Deirdre paused. "Then things may have been different. This child might have been yours." Deirdre indicated where little Tom lay on the ground, lulled to sleep by the sound of the water. Even though she had rarely thought of him in a romantic way, Deirdre thought that her younger self might have been swayed to marry him based on their friendship.

"Deirdre, I have loved you ever since your da brought back the scrawny, under-fed, filthy little blonde urchin that he claimed was his eldest offspring. I loved you while your brothers and cousins teased you. I loved you while I watched suitors ride up in all their pomp and pomposity, only to go riding off in indignation sometimes mere hours later once you had turned them away. I loved you and knew I was not good enough for you. But now I am. I have lands of my own, and wealth, Deirdre. My father was a cattle lord, but now, I am more. If—someday—you find yourself alone in the world, widowed…"

"Shhh! Ruarc, never say such a thing! You know it tempts Him."

Ruarc knew it was not God she spoke of, but rather, Death, who was a jealous suitor as well.

"I'm just saying as I'll always be there for you—you need never be alone."

Ruarc reached down to take her face in his hands, placing his lips on hers, opening her mouth with his tongue. When she did not immediately push him away, he deepened the kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth, tasting its warm sweetness. She felt right in his arms, her body molded to his perfectly. He wanted more, and he pulled her closer, claiming her mouth. Suddenly, she began squirming, her hands pushing on his chest as she begged him to stop. With an effort, he tore himself away from her.

Deirdre was confused by Ruarc's words; she had loved him for all of her life, but never the way that she loved Allan. His mouth on hers felt odd, not right, but she let him take the kiss, knowing it was all she could ever give him. As he deepened the kiss, she put her hands up to stop him before it got out of hand. Instead of letting her go right away, he had held her closer, his mouth rough on hers. She squirmed in his iron grip, pushing harder against the wall of his chest until he finally let her go.

"I'm sorry, Deirdre. I'm so sorry," he moaned, leaning against a tree for support before sliding down the trunk to the ground. He drew his knees up, placing his crossed arms on them and dropping his head onto his arms.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Ruarc. I wish I could love you the way you want me to. I love Allan, though."

Ruarc looked up at her, framed in a patch of moonlight. "I know you do. And I don't really want to come between you. All right, maybe a bit." He smiled sheepishly at her raised eyebrows, the smile disappearing almost immediately.

"I just want you to know that if something—God forbid—were to happen, I will wait for you, and I will take care of you."

"If something…" Deirdre began, then stopped, the pain at the mere idea threatening to overwhelm her. "…you would have to take our children to live with the family because I would be destroyed. Without Allan, there is nothing for me. He is the other half of me, Ruarc. I almost lost him once. When I saw the man who was hurting him, who would have killed him, I lost all control. His death would have ended me, right then and there. So you see, even if there were no Allan, there would be no me for you to comfort, no me for you to take care of. Go away, Ruarc. Go far away and find someone who will love you the way you deserve. Pretend we never met. It will be for the best."

Ruarc said nothing, closing his eyes as she bent to capture his mouth once more with hers, kissing him deeply before pulling away. He listened to the rustle of her skirts as she walked over and bent to pick up her child—hers and Allan's. Within moments, the sounds had disappeared and he was alone; he knew in his soul that it was the first of many nights he would be so.

* * *

Deirdre had been oddly silent for over a week, and Allan was worried. They were gathering their things, preparing to move back to the summer camp when he decided to ask her about it.

"Deirdre, you all right?"

"Yeah, why?" she answered, continuing to pack. She was taking each piece of clothing and folding it meticulously, pressing out the wrinkles with her hand as she went.

"It's just…I mean, you ain't been yourself lately, is all." Allan had stopped his own haphazard packing, and stood looking at his wife.

"No, everything's fine. It's good." Deirdre twisted to look up at him from under a fall of hair and smiled unconvincingly.

Allan raised an eyebrow at her as she turned back to her packing.

"I'm not bein' funny, Luv, but…"

"Nothing's wrong!" Deirdre interrupted him forcefully, flinging clothes into the bag now.

Tom began crying at the sudden noise, and Deirdre moved to comfort him.

Allan's face went wide, his eyebrows both almost touching his hairline, his mouth drawn down on a silent, "oh, really", his head jumped back on his neck. He held his hands before him in surrender and turned back to his packing.

Deirdre continued to rock Tom, her face close to his, shushing him. Once he was quiet again, she spoke softly.

"I'm sorry, Allan. It's just, you won't like it. I thought I could work my way through it without bothering you."

Allan stopped his packing to stare incredulously at his wife.

"Jazus, Deirdre, we been through so much. What could you possibly think would bother me more than my wife bein' upset?"

"Ruarc."

Deirdre watched as even the mention of the man's name turned Allan's face to stone.

"What about 'im?"

"I saw him again last week."

"Where?"

"In the forest. It was late at night, Tom was being fussy, so I brought him to the stream to calm him. I don't know how, but Ruarc found us."

Allan continued to listen silently as Deirdre spoke.

"He was upset, Allan, sorry for what he had done."

"A man should be sorry for kissing another man's wife. A man shouldn't do it in the first place."

"He was sorry for kissing me, Allan, but he claims he is in love with me."

"How could 'e be in love with you? You two ain't seen each other in ten years!"

"He said he's loved me since we were kids, that in those ten years, he never stopped thinking about me."

Allan's face was a mask of fury now as he battled to fight the fear that he might lose Deirdre. He had always known he was not good enough for her, but thought that once they had spoken vows, and now that Tom was here—Tom_ Ruarc_, he reflected wryly—that he would be safe from losing her. He turned away, unable to look at her as he asked the next question.

"So what then, Deirdre? Are you thinkin' o' leavin' me? Is that why you been so quiet?" Allan's accent had thickened considerably as the emotions overwhelmed him—fear, pain, anger, loss.

Deirdre reached for her husband with her right hand, her left still cradling their now-calm child. She placed her hand on his shoulder, shocked to find it trembling under her touch.

"No, Allan, of course not. I'm in love with _you_. I love Ruarc, too, but I'm not _in_ love with him."

Allan closed his eyes in relief, his shoulders sinking from the release of anxiety. He turned back to see Deirdre worrying her lower lip, and his eyes went wide.

"What!" he demanded.

"There's more, Allan. Please don't hate me."

Allan groaned and dropped his head back on his shoulders, wondering why he couldn't have fallen in love with a simple woman.

"Tell me." He closed his eyes again, praying she was making a mountain out of a molehill.

"Ruarc kissed me again."

"He _what_?"

"And I kissed him back."

"You…you…aarrgghh!" Allan had run his hand through his hair at her confession of Ruarc kissing her again; at her confession of kissing the man back, he had nearly torn the hair from his head. Allan looked at her in revulsion for the first time in their marriage before turning to storm out of the cave. Still holding the baby—who was once again wailing at the charged emotions in the air—Deirdre crumpled to the floor and wept.

* * *

Guy rolled over on the bed, smiling contentedly up at the ceiling. The sheriff had been—true to form—sarcastic and nasty.

"_So, Guy, I hear you're married? What's his name?"_

"Her_ name is Adelaide."_

"_A widow, yes?"_

"_Yes."_

"_So, the prince loves you so much, he married you to some horse-faced, well-used dowager, from…where was it? Mapletree?"_

"_Mablethorpe," Guy had answered shortly. _

He had let the sheriff think what he would of Adelaide, hoping that he would not insist on meeting her if he thought her old and ugly. So far, the plan had worked. He spent his days in Nottingham, training his replacement, and his nights at Locksley, ensuring the lands would be well taken care of, and easing his body's tensions in bed with Addy. Adelaide was now getting dressed for the day and Guy smiled, watching her bottom as she bent to pick up clothing they had discarded on the floor in their haste the night before; she was far more at ease with him now, and he began to feel that for the first time in his life, he was really, truly in love.

"You could stop watching me and help me find my clothes," Adelaide chided teasingly, turning to look at him as he lay sprawled naked on the bed.

"Why would I do that when I like the sight of you without them?" Guy teased back, his cock once more stirring to life as he watched her breath hitch and her nipples harden. He held out his hand to her. "Come here," he ordered.

"But Thornton…I have things to do…"

"Thornton managed well enough before you came here, he will do fine without you for another hour or two."

Adelaide raised an eyebrow. "An hour or two? My lord does have a high opinion of himself, doesn't he?" She laughed as she joined him on the bed, his own deep chuckles soon turning to growls as they reached for each other.

* * *

Guy had kept his word, and it was nearly two hours later that Adelaide found herself once more washing his scent off of her before gathering her clothes and dressing for the day. As she picked up her purse to tie it to her waist, the top opened and the contents spilled out. Her face went pale as Guy dropped quickly to the ground to help her, his long fingers wrapping around the bottle of Queen Anne's Lace seeds.

"What are these?" he asked. He had been unsurprised to see the eating knife, the sewing needles and thread, and a handful of keys that most ladies kept in their purses, along with a few pennies for the market, but was curious about the little vial. _Could Adelaide be sick? _he wondered with concern. He helped her gather the seeds that had fallen from the unstoppered bottle, noting with surprise that she seemed nervous, agitated.

"Nothing. They're nothing. I really must go, Guy. You've already made me quite late. The servants will be talking." Quickly, she kissed him on the mouth and darted for the door, leaving a confused Guy behind. She never noticed the errant seeds still on the floor by Guy's hands.

* * *

**A/N: Please review and tell me what you liked and what you didn't. It makes my day to see your reactions and to read your ideas of where the story is going--sometimes it even re-directs the story! Patience, taterbug! :)**


	43. Chapter 43: Fidelity and Fury

Chapter Forty-three: Fidelity and Fury

Wiping the tears from her face, Deirdre passed through the main part of the cave and out the entrance. Spotting Djaq, she handed the baby off to the little Saracen and asked which way Allan had gone. Djaq and Will pointed, and Deirdre followed, catching up to Allan quickly since he was too involved in bitterness to notice he was being followed.

"Allan!"

Deirdre reached for his arm and he spun around, the anger and pain on his face making her take a step back.

"Deirdre, if you want Ruarc, then go. I won't stop you. You won't be the first person in my life to walk out on me; you won't be the last."

"I don't want Ruarc. Not that way. I wanted him to be a part of my life again, but I know now that that's impossible. He doesn't want to be a brother to me and I don't want him as a lover. You are my heart—Mo Croi. Without you, I may as well be dead. Do you think I went through all of that with Gisbourne and the sheriff and Prince John because I just _like_ you? Do you think I'd marry you because I just _like_ you?"

Her words, a mirror of the ones he had spoken to her when she had stormed off in jealousy of Djaq, had the desired effect. He smiled sheepishly at her, and repeated her words of the time back at her.

"Then say it."

"Say what?" she grinned, playing the game and enjoying the verbal sparring.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I love you, Allan A' Dale. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I will always be in love with you. You are my heart and my soul, my reason for living. I will never, ever leave you so long as I'm alive."

He stood with his arms crossed, a smile twitching on his lips.

"Is that all you got?"

"Well, there is this…" Deirdre added, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He kept his arms crossed as she kissed her way down his body, dropping to her knees to open his pants and take him in her mouth.

"Bloody 'ell!" he exclaimed, twining his fingers in her hair as she suckled harder on him. "I believe you, woman, just don't stop!"

Deirdre chuckled low in her throat as she pulled on him with her mouth and he hissed in pleasure.

* * *

Ruarc sat at a table at the back of the Trip Inn. Normally, in a pub he would have been flirting outrageously with the wenches, laughing and joking and carrying on, but today he sat alone, his black mood making others give him a wide berth. There was nothing for him now, and he knew it. When he had first seen her in the forest, Ruarc had dared to hope that Deirdre was unmarried; he had not really been kidding when he told her that she had killed him by saying she had a husband. Ruarc O'Brian was known for his courage in battle, for doing what others would tremble to think of, but in the face of a life without Deirdre, now that he had seen her again, he wanted to weep like a child. He drained the mug before him once more, and called for more ale; it was no Irish stout or uisce beatha, but it would eventually dull the pain. She had told him to leave, to forget about her, as if that were a possibility. How did a man forget about the existence of his heart, his soul? How did a man forget about the only woman he would ever love? He would leave because she had asked him to, and because he could not bear the thought of staying and not being able to see her. He decided to visit the blacksmith first, before he got too drunk, to get his horse shod and a knick in his sword repaired. There would be plenty of time in the evening to get mind-numbingly drunk.

* * *

Guy put the seeds in a pouch and brought them with him to Nottingham. He didn't know what they were, but they had seemed to upset Addy and he wanted to be sure she was not ill and trying to hide it from him. He had intended to stop at the apothecary's shop on the way to the castle, but found himself being hailed by the sheriff as he passed by the blacksmith's shop.

"My Lord Sheriff, what are you doing here?"

Vasey looked around him.

"This is Nottingham, is it not? And I am the Sheriff of Nottingham, am I not?"

Guy looked uncomfortable as the sheriff once more tried to make him look like a fool.

"I only meant, My Lord, that you do not usually mingle with…the peasants."

Guy paused, noting that the only other person outside of the smith himself was a tall man in dark clothes very much like his own that seemed to be a fellow knight. The man stood aloofly to one side, watching the smith with his arms crossed over his massive chest as he leaned against a thick beam of weathered and fired wood. He seemed to take no interest in Guy and Vasey, although his gaze had flickered to them before once more resting on the forge.

The sheriff clucked his tongue. "Now, now, Guy. This man is an artist, not a peasant. And he is making a set of throwing knives for me to present to the prince. I expect that _this_ gift will make it to him."

Guy knew exactly what the sheriff meant: Deirdre had stolen the last present meant for the prince right out from under all their noses—a fine stallion which had never been found after. Vasey was charging Guy to see that the same did not happen to the much smaller—if just as well-made—knives.

"Of course, My Lord."

"'Of course' he says," mocked the sheriff, sparing a grin for the knight, seeming to try to bring the standoffish man into the conversation, if only to annoy Guy. The knight ignored the sheriff, keeping his focus on the forge. Vasey turned back to look at the forge as well before he spoke once more.

"Have you seen her since your return?"

"Seen who, My Lord?"

"The Queen Mother, Gisbourne. Our little horse thief, Deirdre O'Niall—or should I say A' Dale? After all, you two were rather…close."

"I am married now, as is Deirdre."

"Oh please, Gisbourne, don't tell me it doesn't gall you that not only did she refuse you, she chose that…outlaw, that peasant, instead. Tell me there's a part of you that wouldn't love to throw her to the ground and use her until she couldn't move anymore; to rape her and kill her, not necessarily in that order. Tell me you wouldn't get pleasure out of making Allan watch as you took his wife, that you wouldn't enjoy proving to them both who the "bigger man" is."

Guy had long had the suspicion that the sheriff had seen him unclothed before, but it was not a thought on which he liked to dwell; the sheriff's off-hand comment proved him uncomfortably right.

Vasey chuckled, mistaking Guy's silence for agreement. "I thought so. Deirdre is quite a beauty; I imagine she would be an improvement over the used-up hag the prince has chained you to. I'll tell you what, Gisbourne, you track them down and bring them here, and I'll let you have firstsy's. How does that sound, eh? You can even poke young Allan for fun, too."

At Guy's horrified look, Vasey added, "Oh, come now, Guy! Do you mean you never once plucked that forbidden fruit the whole time he worked for you? Your boy would've happily accommodated you I'll bet, had you ordered him to."

Guy's nostrils pinched in anger and humiliation at the sheriff's insinuation, and he thanked God that he had been given the foresight to leave Adelaide at Locksley.

The sheriff's smile was a frightening thing, a demon with knowledge that others did not have. "You don't have to like the Greek practice to enjoy the degradation it causes your victim. He'll be walking funny all the way to the executioner—and you can make him watch you take his wife the same way as he dies. Think about it, eh? You get the A' Dale's and I get Robin Hood. A little going away present before you and horsey-girl go off to live on _her_ lands. The news has already been leaked out that you are escorting the tax money, along with a present for Prince John; that should be tempting enough to draw them out." With that, the sheriff gave Guy a wink and strolled off, back to the castle.

* * *

Ruarc had been waiting apathetically at the blacksmith's shop for the man to get a break to look at his sword and re-shoe Aimhirghin when the sheriff had strolled in and usurped Ruarc's place in line. Normally, Ruarc would have been irritated enough to start a fight, but he recognized that the sheriff was a man of power, and so he subsided to wait for his turn. He leaned against a post, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed in boredom until he heard another man address the nobleman as the "Sheriff of Nottingham" and said sheriff respond to the man, calling him, "Guy." Ruarc remembered the stories the gang had told him of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Guy of Gisbourne. His ears perked up even more as the sheriff mentioned Deirdre; the raw hatred in his voice sent a shudder down Ruarc's spine as he continued to listen to the sheriff's plans for Deirdre. He waited for the sheriff and Guy to leave before nonchalantly collecting his still-nicked sword and unshod horse, putting heels to the animal's sides as soon as he left the gates.

* * *

Guy stopped at the apothecary's shop before going to the castle to begin gathering the soldiers who would accompany him and the prince's gift to London. He knew the sheriff was planning something besides the capture of Robin Hood and that he was being set up to take the fall for the items that would be stolen. He needed to collect men who were loyal to him, but had no idea which men to trust. Most of the men feared him, and if they feared him, they might still turn on him. Guy knew he would need to choose carefully.

Distracted by his thoughts, Guy stepped into the cool, dark shop, his eyes taking a moment to adjust from the light outside. He was greeted by the owner, a squat little man with a wide face and wide hands who put Guy in mind of a frog. The shopkeeper's voice even came out as a bit of a croak as he asked how he could be of service.

"I need to know what these are, what they're for," Guy told him, emptying the pouch into the apothecary's hand.

The man rolled the seeds around with the finger of his other hand, then pinched one and brought it to his tongue, his face scrunching up at the bitter taste.

"Your lover has these?"

"Yes." Guy thought it best that the man know as little as possible.

"Then she is married, yes?"

Guy raised an eyebrow at the man. "She is."

"I would not let it trouble you, then. These are Queen Anne's Lace seeds. Your lover no doubt does not wish to bring home a child to her husband that is not his."

"Do you mean…they are for…" Guy couldn't seem to get the words out.

"They are to keep a woman from having a baby."

The apothecary's words were like fire to Guy's belly—the pain was so intense that he nearly doubled over, catching himself for just a moment on the wall for support.

"Are you all right, Milord?"

Guy shook off the man's hand and pushed away from the wall.

"I'm fine," he growled as he strode angrily out the door. He threw himself on his stallion and yanked the animal's head around, digging his heels in cruelly as he pointed it toward Locksley.

* * *

Allan and Deirdre walked back to camp with their arms around each other, Deirdre's head in the crook of Allan's shoulder. They were laughing and talking in low voices; the gang tried not to notice the mud and leaves in their hair, the mud ground into the knees of Deirdre's pants. The couple noticed immediately that the gang no longer were packing and moving, but rather checking the tension on bowstrings, the straightness of arrow shafts and sharpness of the arrow heads.

"What's going on, Lads?" Allan shrugged apologetically at the raised eyebrows of Djaq and Marian.

"Sheriff's got the winter tax money heading to London," Robin replied.

"And," Much added, "a gift for the prince as well."

"I wonder what it'll be this time!" Deirdre grinned impishly.

Allan's eyebrow shot up. "Marian's with us now. Who gave the information?"

"Much and I overheard two of the younger guards talking in town," Robin responded. "They seemed quite pleased with themselves for being chosen to help guard the shipment."

"And that didn't seem off to you?"

"No. Not if they're with a group of more experienced men. They need to be trained sometime, and if it comes to a fight, I think the sheriff is more than willing to sacrifice whoever he needs to, but the younger, untried ones—even more so."

Allan shrugged—the explanation made sense, but he still felt uneasy about it. Beside him, Deirdre smiled, thoroughly expecting that she would be allowed on this raid. It didn't feel right, and Allan knew that if he couldn't talk Robin and the others out of it, he would have to find a way to at least keep Deirdre away, but he knew ordering her was a sure-fire way to set her back up. He thought about it as they checked over their swords and finished packing; the only thing he could come up with was trying to distract her. He would have to miss out as well, but it could be fun.

* * *

Guy rode into Locksley and threw himself from the heavily-breathing stallion, storming through the front door, yelling Adelaide's name. Thornton came forward to take Guy's cloak and was rudely shoved away for his efforts; the other servants scattered quickly as Guy caught the reeve by the front collar of his shirt.

"Where is she?" he demanded harshly.

"My Lord, she mentioned speaking to the miller about the grain stores," Thornton managed to splutter out, as always confused by his master's mercurial moods.

Guy released the reeve, who caught himself on a chair to keep from falling, and watched his master barge out the door once again.

Adelaide was walking quickly toward him as Guy made his way to find her. As they met, he grabbed her arm roughly and steered her away from the pockets of serfs to the privacy of the barn. He pushed her in the door and turned to shut it. Adelaide mistook his passion and smiled at him, teasing him.

"Goodness Guy, what will the serfs say?"

Guy ignored her, thrusting the seeds into her face.

"Tell me."

Two simple words. Two words that demanded her honesty and would reveal what Guy would view as a betrayal. Adelaide's heart sank as she realized that he was angry and he was hurt. She knew she must be completely honest with him if she were to come out of this without a beating.

"They are called "Queen Anne's Lace," she began, watching as his nose pinched in anger. "They are to keep a woman from having babies."

A shudder wracked Guy's large frame. "Whose?" he bit out.

Adelaide could have told them she kept them for another, but who? Mary? The woman had been too good to her for Adelaide to cast aspersions on her character, insinuating she was an adulteress. There was nothing for it but honesty, and hoping he at least did not break any bones when he decided to punish her.

"Mine."

"I know that. I mean whose child are you not wanting to carry?"

Guy stood stock-still, afraid she would tell him that she had made him a cuckold.

Adelaide stared at Guy in consternation, wondering why he would think she could want another man after what she had told him of her past.

"Yours. And just, not yet. Guy, I was afraid of you when the prince first married us. I had no desire to get pregnant at that point."

Adelaide placed a hand on his arm which he threw off, pushing her away, relieved that there was no other man, yet still hurt by her actions.

"And now? Tell me, Adelaide: are you still taking them?" Guy could almost understand her taking the seeds when they had first been married when he thought of the things she had told him of Lord Henry. He still felt like he had fallen over a cliff and he was now grasping at a root to keep from falling. If she would only tell him that they were old, that she no longer used them, he could pull himself up and be safe in her arms. He looked at her, searching her face, and felt his grip on that root fail.

"I am."

Adelaide's words were spoken so softly that Guy almost couldn't hear them. Unfortunately, he did, and once more, vertigo seemed to overtake him and he reeled from it before catching himself.

"I thought," he began slowly, the pain of yet another betrayal cutting deep, "I thought we had an understanding. You know how badly I wanted to start a family. Why would you do such a thing to me?"

"I'm sorry, Guy. I was terrified of you at first, and then I thought we should wait…"

"Wait?" Guy's anger was a palpable thing, a third presence in the room. "Wait for what? Until you were no longer afraid of me? I thought I had been patient with you, Adelaide. I thought I had shown you kindness. I thought you trusted me!"

Adelaide opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off from answering by Guy's rage.

"Don't! Don't bother with any more of your lies. Did Lord Henry even really use you the way you said or was that another lie to keep from doing your wifely duty?"

Guy's rage was a feral wolf, devouring his heart, tearing out great chunks of the emotions he had allowed himself to feel with Adelaide. He did the only thing he could think of to survive—he closed himself off. Straightening his shoulders, he stood tall, his eyes gone cold and hard.

"I am to escort a consignment of taxes to London. You will come as well. When the taxes are given over to the prince, we shall leave for Mablethorpe and then I shall return to Locksley. Alone. You will remain in Mablethorpe. I shall expect to see profits from the land or you shall be punished. We will have no further contact beyond your reports and punishments." Guy turned away, stopping at the door to add, "You shall sleep in the barn tonight."

Adelaide stood staring at the door that Guy slammed behind him, too shocked to cry.

* * *

**A/N: Hey look, Deirdre's out of the frying pan! Hey look, Addy's in the fire! Let me know what you think! Thanks! (Wow! Look at all the excalamation marks!)**


	44. Chapter 44: Needing a Reason

Chapter Forty-four: Needing a Reason

Ruarc stopped Aimhirghin, turning him around and around as he looked over the area. The deer path he had ridden along led off and back in multiple directions; even with all his years of experience as a hunter and tracker, Ruarc would have had a difficult time finding the camp again had he not marked two of the trees. The scratches were boar-like, but were high overhead; Ruarc had made the marks when he had left Deirdre the last time just in case he needed to come back. Some sixth sense—or perhaps his familiarity with Deirdre—had told him he might need to return. The clearing was well off the road, surrounded by tall trees and foliage—no one would find Aimhirghin by accident. He dismounted quickly, tying the reins in a knot to lay on Aimhirghin's withers so the stallion would be unencumbered should he have a need to escape, or to come to his master's aide. Ruarc whispered in Irish for the chestnut to stay before he drew his knife and stepped into the thick brush. Aimhirghin was a trained war-horse, he would not run away.

Before long, Ruarc found himself in another clearing, this one with a cave at the far end. Ruarc frowned in consternation—he should have been greeted by an arrow pointing in his face at the very least, but no one seemed to be about. He went to the cave, noting that the signs of human occupancy had been cleverly—if not completely—eradicated. It was difficult enough to cover up one's presence for a single night, let alone for months of habitation. Ground cover that was worn deeper than that of the surrounding forest, smoke marks on the cave walls and ceilings, the cave floor a little too smooth—all were signs of occupancy that were tricky to erase. He felt a momentary panic as he realized Deirdre and the gang were gone, then began to search the area, looking for a direction to follow. He found the path when he was nearly through with his search, a small footpath that led up over the top of the cave, and followed it carefully through the forest. Before dusk, he crossed a stream, finding signs on the other side and following the way they led. Moments later, he smelled wood smoke and food, and hoped that it was the gang; drawing his sword quietly just in case it was some other group of outlaws, Ruarc moved forward cautiously.

* * *

The sound of the alarm had the outlaws scrambling for their weapons.

"Where d'you think yer goin'?" Allan asked as Deirdre placed Tom back in his bassinet and picked up her sword.

"To check out the alarm, of course," Deirdre replied.

"Yer not."

"What?"

"Please Deirdre, just stay 'ere with Tom."

While they had argued, the others had gone and Allan followed just behind at a run, leaving her no choice. She turned and glanced down at the infant, who was cooing and giggling as he examined his toes.

"You know, I love your daddy, but sometimes he is just too full of himself. Ordering Mamaí around like that! Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Completely." The deep masculine voice startled Deirdre and she turned swiftly, her sword nearly slicing Ruarc's neck. His eyes went wide and then he grinned in raw amusement.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded angrily.

"Saving you from a life of utter boredom," he replied lightly.

"Who says my life is boring?"

"Is it?"

"Certainly not anymore."

"Then my job is done."

"Then you can leave."

"And let your life get boring again?"

She glared intensely at him, and was just about to lower the sword when the gang came running back into camp, having found the trap with a branch in it and suspected a ruse. Allan was the first to arrive.

"Well, there's a sight to warm a man's 'eart. The woman 'e loves holding a sword to the throat of the man who wants to take 'er away." He grinned roguishly, but his eyes still held suspicion of Ruarc.

Ruarc smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "If that's how you feel about it, I'll just keep my information to myself."

Robin stepped forward. "What information?"

"About a certain shipment of taxes and a gift to Prince John."

Much laughed. "We already know about that."

"But did you know the information was leaked so the sheriff and Gisbourne can catch you? Did you know how much the sheriff hates you?"

The gang laughed at Ruarc's naiveté.

"That's not exactly news, Mate," Allan jeered.

"I'm afraid that was old news when I came to join the gang, Ruarc, and that was a year ago." Deirdre lowered her sword finally and Ruarc expelled the breath he had not realized he was holding.

"I overheard them at the blacksmith's. The sheriff is using the shipment and the gift as a lure. He wants all of you captured, tortured and," he paused, the sheriff's vicious words about what Gisbourne should do to Deirdre re-playing themselves in his mind, "killed."

"Again, not exactly news," Much put in.

Ruarc glared at the smaller man, whose brow furrowed as he moved surreptitiously closer to Robin.

Ruarc shifted his gaze to Deirdre. "Look, I came to warn you not to take this tax shipment. I don't want to see you hurt—any of you," he added as his eyes moved to take in the others.

Robin moved closer and clapped the warrior on the arm. "We appreciate your help, Ruarc but robbing tax shipments—it's what we do. What I'd really like to know is how you found this place."

Ruarc grinned deprecatingly. "Don't worry, Robin. It wasn't easy. And with night falling, I'll be camping in the forest before I can make it back to Aimhirghin and out safely."

"Then you'll stay with us for the night," Robin declared. "Your horse will be fine where he is?"

"He's a trained war horse. He'll be well."

Ruarc and Robin ignored the shocked look on Allan's face before Allan took Robin aside.

"Do you really think that's such a good idea?"

"Why not?"

"'Why not?' 'e says. Would you invite Guy to sleep within ten feet of Marian?" At Robin's black look, Allan knew he had struck a chord. "All I'm sayin' is, make 'im sleep outside, that's all."

"I can't do that, Allan. I _will_ give you and Deirdre the alcove for the night though. Will that do?"

Allan looked less than happy about the situation, a frown of suspicion once more marring his face. He looked back to see Ruarc beaming at Deirdre, who was glaring back at her potential suitor; he thought back to earlier that day, when Deirdre had shown him just how much she loved him and wanted to be with him, not Ruarc.

"All right, one last night. But 'e goes in the morning, Robin."

Robin smiled and clapped Allan on the back. "It'll be all right. We'll put up a watch for the night."

Allan frowned but subsided.

* * *

Adelaide sat in the barn on her knees, exactly where she had landed after Guy had left the barn. Her sobbing had subsided and she sat unmoving, silent as the grave. Her mind however, was not silent. Thoughts whirled around—of how she had been right and Guy could indeed be as vicious as any man, of how she had betrayed the trust he had given her and therefore deserved it, of how he deserved better. With the coming of dawn, she heard his spurs as he made his way to the barn and held out the faint hope that he was coming to apologize, to forgive her so that they could start all over. She was wrong.

Guy entered the barn and paused, his gaze full of loathing as it rested on her. The stableboy who had entered with Guy worked quickly to ready his stallion while Guy studied her silently. When the horse was ready, Guy picked up the reins and turned back toward her.

"I have business to attend to in Nottingham. You are to pack your things. We leave for London and then Mablethorpe in the morning." With that, he led the stallion outside, mounting quickly and riding away.

* * *

Adelaide entered the manor house to be greeted by an obsequious Mary.

"Oh, My Darling. Come. Sit. Eat."

Mary's fear for her mistress had her acting more like a mother than a servant. She had often seen Adelaide like this, but it was usually after a night of Lord Henry's "special" attention. She knew that Guy had not had time to rape or beat her soundly, but that did not mean he had not slapped her once or twice. Mary had known something like this could happen, but chose not to say so to her already shocked charge. Mary gently tried to guide Adelaide to a seat at the table, but Adelaide pushed her away.

"There is no time. I must pack."

Guy had informed Mary last night that they would be leaving, that her mistress was a deceitful, lying whore, and had not allowed Mary to go the barn on pain of death.

"_She needs time to think on what she has done,"_ he had claimed angrily. Mary watched now as Adelaide moved stiffly up the stairs to begin the process of packing to return to Mablethorpe, a process which should have been suffused with joy as she and Guy returned as newlyweds to the home they would share, but now was more like preparing for a funeral.

* * *

In the forest, the night had passed uneventfully, and Ruarc sat comfortably by the fire eating his breakfast.

Allan had declared there was no reason for him to stay to breakfast but had been over-ruled by a shocked Deirdre.

"He shouldn't need a reason! I am _still_ Irish and it is against the rules of hospitality to send him away before he's ready. Honestly!" she had harrumphed at him, handing Ruarc his full plate of bread and eggs and pork.

Ruarc had shrugged and looked guilelessly at Allan before digging—slowly—into the food, chewing and swallowing each piece fully and pausing between bites to talk to Deirdre or one of the gang.

When Deirdre came out from the bower with a squalling Tom, Ruarc reached for the infant, setting aside his plate to sing to and play with his namesake.

Allan reached quickly for the plate.

"I guess you're done then, eh? Too bad you can't stay longer, but you've got people to kill, wars to join, that sort of thing. Thanks for comin' by, but we don't want to hold you up."

Ruarc still held Tom in one arm as he reached the other over to grab a piece of bread off the plate.

"I'm not quite done. How could I insult my hosts by leaving some food on the plate? Especially food this good." Ruarc smiled ingenuously at Much who beamed at the unusual compliment.

Allan glared at the big Irish warrior as he continued to eat slowly, playing with baby Tom, who was giggling at the faces his "uncle" made for him.

* * *

Adelaide was done packing by the time Guy returned to Locksley. She had moved slowly throughout the day, like a bug trapped in liquid amber. She had eaten nothing, her appetite gone in her sadness. She had loved Guy, or had started to, and thought he had felt the same; his violent reaction to her lies had shown her just how easily he could cast her off. He strode into the manor house now, followed closely by a woman who looked like a prostitute.

Guy looked toward Addy, never meeting her gaze, and said one word: "Out." As Addy bowed her head and moved toward the door, he added, "You will sleep in the barn again tonight."

Addy swallowed miserably and continued toward the barn.

* * *

Around mid-morning, Ruarc left, and Allan heaved a sigh of relief. Will soon came back from town with the information that the tax shipment would leave the following day, led by Gisbourne, who was back from wintering in London, and—rumor had it—married.

Much made a face at the news. "Who would want to marry _him_?"

"We know 'e ain't _your_ type, Much, but Giz can be nice with the ladies sometimes."

Allan looked to Deirdre and Marian, who both shrugged and nodded.

"Besides," Deirdre added, "it may not have been her choice. Not all marriages are made for love." She smiled at Allan; off to the side, Robin put his arm around Marian and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

"That's true. Poor woman." Much turned back to sharpening his sword, and the others resumed their own preparations.

Later in the day, the gang was treated to the sound of the alarm once more. They ran to see who had stumbled close to camp this time, and found Ruarc sitting comfortably on Aimhirghin, while a dead deer dangled from the rope of the trap.

"I thought I'd bring you some dinner to pay you back for the food I ate last night and this morning," he grinned comfortably at Robin.

Much was flustered that someone else had done some hunting—not that the others didn't hunt, it just wasn't very often. Ruarc reached behind him to untie a wineskin, throwing it to Robin, then turned to the other side to grab another skin, which he tossed to Little John.

"I thought, since you were determined to go on this raid, that I should come along with you," Ruarc added, dismounting from Aimhirghin.

"What?" Allan exclaimed. "No no no, Mate. There's no way. Thanks but no thanks."

"Why not?"

Robin stepped forward. "Look, we thank you for the meat and the wine, and you are welcome to share both with us," he ignored Allan's mutinous look, "but we cannot ask you to risk exposing yourself and possibly getting killed."

"Yet, you would ask your women to risk their lives." Ruarc looked at Allan as he spoke, the anger evident in the posture of both men.

"Deirdre ain't goin'."

"Excuse me?" Deirdre's back stiffened. She couldn't believe they were going to have this conversation again.

Allan and Ruarc both ignored her as they stepped closer to one another. Despite having to look up at the other man, Allan managed to keep his contentious posture.

"It doesn't matter if she goes or not. You choose to keep her in this dangerous situation. Her _and_ your child. They should be in a tidy little home in a village somewhere, not living in a forest where they are hunted like animals."

Allan had no answer for that—he felt the same way, and guilt for putting Deirdre and Tom in this position was a constant companion; it was why—despite his promise to her—he didn't want Deirdre going on raids.

Robin spoke then, his voice soft with his own emotions over the unfairness of it—he and Marian should be living in Locksley, should have been married years ago and had a child or two of their own by now.

"This is how we live, Ruarc. And until England is free from Prince John's tyranny, this is how Englishmen of conscience must live."

Ruarc seemed to consider. "Robin, I know that you believe in what you fight for, but to put the women and the children in such jeopardy…"

"They would be in as much jeopardy in any croft in England, maybe more so. At least here in the forest, the sheriff's men do not come to steal from us in the name of taxes, they do not take the food from our very mouths as we are eating it, and we have places to run and hide."

Ruarc nodded. "Fair enough. But if you will not leave this tax shipment alone…" he paused, noting the hard line of determination on all their faces. "Deirdre, please listen to your husband." Allan raised a surprised eyebrow, which nearly joined his hairline as Ruarc continued, "and Allan, stay safe. She loves you very much." Ruarc held out his arm and Allan took it after a moment's hesitation, still not quite trusting the mercurial Irishman.

* * *

**A/N: Lots going on in this one & you know how I love your attention. Please review! I'm doing NaNoWriMo next month for the first time and I need all the positive reinforcement I can get--don't worry, I have chaps nearly ready and a passel of them with my beta, so I'll still be able to post "Den" while I'm trying to write my 50,000 words!**


	45. Chapter 45: Loss

**A/N: This chap is ALL Guy/Adelaide--sorry Deirdre/Allan fans! Deirdre and Allan will be back soon, promise (maybe even with a dash or Ruarc thrown in for good measure)!**

* * *

Chapter Forty-five: Loss

Adelaide sank to the ground to spend yet another miserable night in the barn. She knew she should be angry, but she could not work up the energy for it. Her father had been a hard man, Lord Henry had been just plain violent, and now Guy was being cold. Her mind began to whirl, thinking of what these men had in common and came to the conclusion that it must be her. She had seen Guy's gentle side, his compassion; the sudden shift was due to her lies, she knew. _He'd be a better man without me_, she thought blackly, looking up at the lit window of their bedroom as the sound of the whore's laughter drifted down to her. The tears ran freely down her face as she rocked back and forth by the front door. When the candles were blown out in the manor, she got up slowly, carefully cleaning the bits of hay from her clothing and hair, combing her hair with her fingers; she breathed deeply until her breath became steady and then stepped through the door.

* * *

In the manor, Guy brought the whore upstairs and threw her on the bed, which made her laugh with glee. He pushed her down and kissed her violently, his hand tearing at her clothing, wanting to punish her the way he could not bring himself to punish Adelaide. He was angry and hurt by Adelaide's betrayal, but even as she had stood before him, admitting to the lies she had told him, he had found himself unable to raise his hand to her. A part of him felt that she was as two-faced as Marian or Deirdre had ever been; another part realized she had done it out of self-preservation. Thinking back to his mother and her relationship with Malcolm, he wondered if _all _women were two-faced out of self-preservation. Did men truly leave them no choice? What of the woman beneath him right now? Did she want to be a whore or had life simply left her no choice? He felt his erection fade quickly and he pushed himself from the bed, throwing a bag of coins to her.

"Go."

"What?" She had actually been looking forward to bedding the handsome, brooding Sir Guy. She had heard from some of the other whores in town that not only was he "more than adequate," he was usually a considerate lover as well.

"You may sleep with the servants for the night. In the morning, someone will escort you back to Nottingham."

Guy opened the door and the woman made her way out of the room with a little pout; she saw the light disappear from under the door as she made her way cautiously down the stairs with a single, small candle.

Once the whore was gone, Guy blew out the remaining candle and sat by the window, boots propped on the sill. A moment later, he watched a lone figure make its way out of the barn. The figure moved stiffly, as though old or infirm; instinctively, he knew it was Adelaide. He began to feel guilty about the way he had treated her. Adelaide was a complex woman with a violent past in which she had been victimized too many times to count. It was only natural that she would try to protect herself. Guy realized he would have to be more patient with her in the future. He smiled to himself as he realized that he was once more thinking of a future _with _Addy, and decided that he would go down and meet her back at the barn when she returned from relieving herself. He looked out at her once more, and something about her gait had him frowning. He noticed the direction she was headed and his boots hit the floor as he jumped up, a sudden thought taking hold in his brain.

"Adelaide!" he called softly, then more loudly when she didn't answer. Still, she did not turn around, but continued on. Toward Locksley Pond.

* * *

Adelaide's mind was nearly a complete blank. Her only thoughts were that she was the common thread with these men, and that it was her lies, her deception that had turned Guy cold. If she could just remove herself, she thought, he would go back to being gentle and kind. She didn't really know where she was going, but suddenly she found herself staring at Locksley Pond. She thought of how lovely it looked, a pool of more darkness in the already dark night. Her feet seemed to move of their own volition, and then the water was lapping at her slippers. She reached down to remove the slippers, thinking that she wanted to feel the water on her feet. Her toes sank into the mud, the soft, cold stuff squishing up between her toes as she took another step and another. Her dress began to pool around her as she walked in up to her hips. She thought the water must be cold, but could not feel it as she stepped further and further in. The water rose to her chest, to her neck, and then she was sinking down into its welcoming embrace as the darkness closed over her head.

* * *

Guy ran as though he were being chased by the Devil himself. His lungs burned as he raced across the little village faster than he had ever run in his life, more frightened than he had ever been in his life. As he came within sight of Locksley Pond, he watched Adelaide slip below the water and re-doubled his efforts, diving cleanly in as the water snatched at his calves. His heart slammed in his chest as he looked around wildly in the dark, murky water for Adelaide, swimming toward where he thought he had last seen her. He began to panic as he turned around in the water, searching, and his lungs began to run out of air. Just as he was about to push to the surface, something brushed his outstretched hand; he grabbed hold of it and pulled it to the surface with him—it had been Adelaide's hand. He took in great gulps of air and noticed with despair that she was not doing the same. He swam to the shore with her body and buried his head in her neck, sobbing with grief. Adelaide lay beneath him, cold and unmoving; as he looked at her, the peace on her face enraged Guy. He wondered how she could look so peaceful, so happy, when his world had just crashed around him. In a frenzy, he slammed his fisted hand into her belly over and over, crying out his pain.

"How could you? How could you do this to me? You cannot leave me alone! You cannot!" he screamed at her inert form.

As he collapsed against her, pulling her body onto its side toward him, she suddenly began to cough and regurgitate the water from her body. Guy's eyes widened in disbelief as Adelaide took in great gulps of air.

"Adelaide! Addy!"

Her eyes blinked and she shuddered as she looked up at him in confusion.

"Guy? What happened?" Adelaide's voice was scratchy, raw-sounding, and Guy sighed in relief at hearing it.

"You…you were in the pond. Don't you remember?"

"No. The last thing I remember was you sending me to the barn for the night so you could…" She swallowed, unable to complete the thought, and tried to push out of Guy's embrace. "I am sorry that I pulled you away from your sport, My Lord."

Guy felt her emotional wall slam back into place, blocking him out once more. He let her go, let her rise and walk away, back toward the barn. After a moment, he gathered himself and rose to stride quickly after her. He caught up to her just outside the barn and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. His eyes searched her down-turned face.

"Adelaide, please forgive me. I was…unpleasant. Women have always lied to me, and I thought you were different, especially when you knew how important honesty was to me. When I found out you had lied to me as well…I am sorry, Adelaide. I know now that you were only trying to protect yourself. I will listen to you this time if you will talk to me. Tell me how to mend this, to make it right."

Adelaide was deeply shaken by the sincerity and desperation in his voice. She could not bring herself to look at him until he left her no choice by dropping to his knees before her. He put his arms around her and laid his head on her sodden belly. When she did not answer him, he continued.

"I was angry with you and so I brought home a whore, hoping to punish you by using her, but I found myself unable to lie with her. I sent her to sleep with the servants. I was watching the barn, thinking of you and all you had told me—particularly of your fear of bearing Lord Henry a child—when I saw you step out and head toward the pond. Adelaide, I can never apologize enough for causing you that much pain, that you thought to…end it."

Guy looked up at her then, his eyes wet with emotion, the water still running from his hair.

"Please, Adelaide, can't we go back to the way things were?"

Adelaide looked down at the misery on his upturned face, watching as one tear escaped to track down his cheek. No man had ever shed tears over her, let alone over something he had done to her. No man had ever apologized for mistreating her, had ever felt regret concerning her. No man—except Guy. When she answered, her voice was rough.

"No."

Guy's eyes widened incredulously at her response.

"We can never go back to the way things were, Guy. I did not trust you fully and you did not truly trust me. From now on, there are no secrets between us. I will stop taking the seeds and you will tell me of these women who caused you such pain. You will tell me why the servants look at me pityingly, hopefully; and why some of them look so blackly at you. I want to know _everything_, Guy."

Her hand reached out to stroke his cheek and Guy leaned into the touch, turning slightly to kiss her palm. He reached up to hold her hand there as he spoke into the cup of it, nuzzling her thumb.

"If I tell you everything, you will loathe me."

"Are you the same man, Guy, as you were six months ago?"

"No."

"Neither am I the same woman. We are each changed by the other. For the better, I think. How much more changed will we be in another six months? In six years? Our past shapes us, molds us, but just because we were something at one point in our lives, that does not mean we will remain that something for all of our lives. Let me know all of you, Guy. Let me judge."

Guy stood, and Adelaide could see the fear reflecting in his eyes; he nodded and swallowed, his face grim.

Adelaide smiled gently at him as she led him back toward the manor.

"First, we must get into dry clothes."

Guy stopped, yanking her back to him and bent his head to crush his lips to hers, his tongue opening her mouth and delving deep. Adelaide's hands twined in Guy's hair, pulling him closer still as she responded to his kiss.

"I think we should concern ourselves with getting out of these wet things first, and warming up a bit," he growled against her mouth.

"As you wish, My Lord, but would we not be more comfortable in our bed?"

Guy smiled intensely at her and kissed her again quickly before spinning her around and leading her back into the manor and up the stairs.

* * *

Guy kicked the door closed and moved toward Adelaide, shedding his jacket before reaching to help her with her own clothing. He grabbed for a blanket, but was forestalled by her hand on his arm, turning him so that she might help him undress as well. They moved toward the bed, and Guy took hold of her slender waist to lift her up onto the mattress before crawling, animal-like, after her. She shivered in anticipation and he smiled ferally, reaching behind her to move the covers, his breath whispering on her skin.

Guy moved the covers down to the end of the bed, heightening Addy's anticipation as she watched him tend to her. He took one of her feet in his hands and began to massage the warmth back into it, repeating the process with the other foot, kissing each foot before placing it back on the bed. When he was finished with her feet, he moved to her ankles and her calves; by the time he had reached her thighs, she nearly came off the bed at his touch. Gently, his lips moved up one thigh and then down the next, studiously avoiding the area in between. As he leaned over her to begin on her hands and arms, Addy felt his thick erection brush her thigh, felt the coolness as his pre-come rubbed along her skin. She moaned and writhed, pushing herself toward him, trying to join them, but Guy only chuckled evilly, straddling her as he leaned over to kiss her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth. His hands stroked her ears and her neck, and Addy felt herself near the edge already as he took a lobe into his mouth and suckled urgently on it, his teeth nipping the tender skin. He moved down to her clavicles and her belly, skipping over her breasts until her breathing grew even more ragged. With a grin, he bent low and nuzzled against one breast, and then the other, before taking a nipple quickly into his mouth, suckling hard while he teased the other with his fingers.

Beneath Guy, Adelaide writhed, moaning with pleasure. Her hands reached up to hold his head to her breast for a bit before stroking lower down his body. She grabbed his erection in both hands, her fingers stroking lightly up and down the shaft, her thumb teasing the slit and bringing forth more come. She took her hands from him and pushed against his chest, making him sit up and eye her in consternation.

"Addy? What is it?"

"I…" she blushed, then hurried on. "I wish to taste you, Guy. I want to take you into my mouth."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" he growled, stepping off the bed and pulling her down onto the rug before the fire. Adelaide stood up on her tip-toes, kissing her way down his body as he had done to her, only starting at the top. When she got low enough, she knelt before him, pulling him toward her so that she could lick along his length. Guy hissed in pleasure as her tongue dove into the slit on the head of his cock then wrapped around his tip, pulling him into her warm mouth. Adelaide moved slowly, wanting to take as much of him as she possibly could, pushing her head forward and pulling it back in a rhythm that had Guy breathing raggedly in no time. His hands took hold of the back of her head, and through sheer force of will, he managed to keep from holding her head in place so he could fuck her mouth, instead letting her control the action. With each push, Adelaide took more and more of him into her mouth; finally, Guy could take it no more. He pulled her off of him and threw her back onto the bed, landing ungently on top of her and violently pulling her legs apart; with a growl, he pushed the head of his erection into her, pausing for the merest of seconds before thrusting hard into her. Adelaide cried out, the pain and the pleasure combining, with pleasure winning out as her juices lubricated his passage into her body. Guy was beyond noticing anything as he plunged into her and her hips began pushing back at him, wanting more of him, taking more of him on every thrust.

Adelaide couldn't believe the words she was saying as she begged him for more, begged him to thrust harder, faster. She grasped at his shoulders and locked her ankles around him, crying out his name as he buried himself inside her, filling her with his seed, her own name coming out as a hoarse bellow from his lips as she squeezed him tightly.

* * *

When they could breathe again, Guy got up and pulled on his pants to stoke the fire before shedding them once more and returning to bed. He sat against the back-board as he had the last time he had bared a part of his soul to her, and held her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head as her fingers lightly stroked across his belly.

"So, Guy, these women who hurt you. Tell me of them." Her voice was muffled by her hair and the fact that she was planting kisses on his chest. In spite of their recent activities, he felt his groin tighten once more. He heard her giggle at his obvious reaction and the sound was wonderful on his ears. She reached down to run her fingers from the base to the tip of him, and he sucked in a breath.

"Not until you tell me. All of it," she demanded, licking the tip of his erection and moving her hands to once more stroke his belly and chest.

"I already told you of my mother," he began, his voice hoarse.

"Mmmhmm." Adelaide snuggled close to him as he continued.

Guy took a breath before expelling his story in a rush. "Marian of Knighton Hall toyed with my affections for years, and all the while, she still loved Robin of Locksley. Deirdre O'Niall did the same, but for a lesser period, and with a different man. At least Marian had the decency to run off with someone who had once been a lord. Deirdre ran off with a man who was a peasant and had been a thief long before Robin Hood came along. They were dishonest—pretending to care about me while they laughed behind my back."

"Did they feel no remorse?"

"None that I could see."

"Then they were cruel and you should never think of them again."

Guy smiled at the vehemence in her voice.

"You should help me forget," he declared, reaching for her and pulling her on top of him, his erection throbbing at her entrance.

She slid down until she sat on his thighs.

"You still have more to tell me, Guy."

At his confused look, she added, "About the servants? Their fear of you?"

Guy had the decency to look abashed. "Taxes were required by the prince. As the sheriff's lieutenant, it fell to me to collect them. Lord Vasey does not accept excuses, so neither could I. They fear me because I did whatever I had to to collect the taxes, or to get information, or to punish those who broke the law."

"And you enjoyed it." It was a statement, one he feared to agree with, but they had sworn to be honest with one another.

"Yes."

"When you were younger, you were powerless in so much of your life. Believe me, I understand. Lord Henry ruled every aspect of my life—what I said, what I did, what I wore—he even controlled my emotions. Do you not think that I felt the rush of power when it was clear that he would not be coming back alive? For a time, I was cruel, as well. I was particularly cruel to those whose faces I remembered sneering at me, laughing at the things Lord Henry had told them I had done." She paused before asking, "Have you been cruel since our return?"

"No."

"I have not been cruel in some time, either. I have found that the servants work better for me when I am kind, and that those who would take advantage of my kindness are actually punished by the others far worse than I could ever do."

"So will you teach me how to be kind?" Guy smiled at her as he held her hips.

"I think, My Lord Husband, that it is already inside of you," Adelaide shifted until her center was over him, rubbing him as she stroked up and back on him, finally couching him inside of her once more.


	46. Chapter 46: Unexpected

Chapter Forty-six: Unexpected

Guy rode into Nottingham to pick up the tax money and was confronted by the sour face of the sheriff. It was only just dawn, and they all knew Vasey hated getting up so early; Guy was relieved that he would not be staying long. The young man who was replacing Guy as Vasey's lieutenant stood to the sheriff's right, looking ill at ease, very much aware that he would be dealing with a mercurial boss for the whole day. Guy reined in and nodded at the two men.

"Lord Vasey. Humphrey."

Vasey cocked an eyebrow at his former lieutenant. "Not even taking the time to dismount, Guy? And where is the little woman? Don't I get to meet her?"

"I told you, My Lord, that Adelaide has been indisposed. This morning she prepares for our departure."

"Perhaps I should ride out to Locksley with you, eh?" Vasey called for his horse and that of his new lieutenant.

"It would be bad manners on my part to let your wife ride out without ever having met her." Vasey noted Guy's look of trepidation with satisfaction. He had heard rumors that Guy's wife was not a horse-faced matron after all, but was, in fact, both kind and attractive. He planned to find out for himself if the rumors were true.

* * *

Adelaide was nearly done with the packing when Guy returned. Behind him rode twenty men-at-arms whose job was to help Guy's own men guard the tax shipment; beside him rode an older man in black on a white horse. Adelaide ignored the others to greet her husband.

"My Lord husband, the packing is nearly done. We can break our fast and be on our way within the hour." Adelaide had walked up to Guy's stallion and placed her hand on his muzzle as she spoke. Guy and the older man, as well as another younger man, dismounted; the younger of the three held the reins of the horses. As the older man turned and gave her an appraising look, Adelaide shivered and a shock of recognition went through her body.

* * *

Ruarc watched from the cover of the nearby trees as the gang filed out of the camp and headed for the North Road, leaving Deirdre and Tom behind. He watched Deirdre bounce Tom in her arms for a bit, walking him around and speaking to him in Irish. He knew what he had to do, and he knew Deirdre would be angry with him, but he wouldn't let her anger stop him. The valerian-soaked cloth felt heavy in his gloved hand as he stalked quietly up behind her and clapped it over her nose and mouth until she collapsed into his arms. Quickly, he tied her arms and legs, and gagged her before scooping up Tom and slinging Deirdre over his shoulder. Before long, he had melted back into the woods. He knew he had to hurry, to put as much distance between himself and the outlaws as possible.

* * *

"So, this is the little wife, eh Gisbourne? Rumor had it she was very pretty, but you led me to believe she was not. Why is that, Gisbourne? Afraid I might try to steal your woman away?"

Guy ducked his head, turning it to the side as he closed his eyes in anger. The sheriff always made him feel unworthy and he had been afraid of exposing Adelaide to Vasey's temper. Now all he wanted was to get away from this place, from this wicked man, his former master.

"My Lord Sheriff, I…"

"I know, Gisbourne, I know. That would be superfluous of me, wouldn't it? That's already been done—twice, if memory serves."

The sheriff turned his greasy smile on Adelaide, who stood frozen to the spot. The look of cruelty on his face was so reminiscent of Lord Henry that she almost felt as though she was looking at her dead first husband.

"Is she mute, Gisbourne? That might be the best kind of wife for you, unless of course, someone cut out her tongue. That would be a loss with such a pretty mouth."

The way the sheriff insinuated the words, the way he looked pointedly from Adelaide's mouth to Guy's crotch, left no doubt as to his meaning. Adelaide flushed, but this time it was with anger.

"My Lord Sheriff, I would appreciate it if you would speak to my husband with the respect due to his station. He is a lord in his own right now, no longer your whipping boy."

Adelaide's eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushed and her hands fisted at her sides as she moved toward the sheriff, all her pent-up anger at Lord Henry's abuses finding release as she defended her husband.

"It may be that Prince John brought us together in marriage, but Sir Guy is a good man, a man I am proud to call husband, and _no_ man shall take me away from him of my own will!"

Guy stood, mouth agape, as he watched his shy, demure wife turn into a warrior right before his eyes.

Vasey cocked an eyebrow before directing his gaze purposefully to Adelaide's heaving breast.

"My, my, my, Guy. It seems you've been thrusting lies down her throat as well."

Adelaide colored, remembering the night before; if it had been Lord Henry and not her Guy, she would have sworn he had told the sheriff all about her wantonness. She reached her arm back, hand raised; Guy quickly moved forward and grabbed her arm, stepping between his wife and Vasey. He looked down at her intensely as he kept her from slapping his former lord.

"Adelaide, he is not worth it." Without turning away from his wife, Guy spoke to Vasey. "You have seen the tax money safely to Locksley, Sheriff. We will be on our way now.'

"But what of the food your wife was going to serve? I was very much looking forward to her…serving…me."

"I am afraid that will be impossible, My Lord. We must leave now. Adelaide, please see to the last things while I bid the sheriff good-bye."

Her expression murderous, Adelaide turned and walked away while Guy turned back to face the sheriff. When he spoke, his voice was low, feral; he used his height to try to cow the older man.

"If you ever speak to my wife like that again, Vasey, there will not be enough of your corpse left to identify it was once you."

Vasey looked at Guy in amusement before turning back and re-mounting his white stallion.

"Well, Gisbourne, I can't say it's been a pleasure." With that, Vasey pulled viciously on the reins and put heels to his horse, followed closely by his new lieutenant.

* * *

Adelaide finished directing the servants and then made to climb into the back of the wagon with Mary. Guy took her arm and directed her toward a small chestnut mare instead, motioning for some of the serving girls who were afoot to enter the wagon instead; after a moment's hesitation, they complied.

"I am sorry about the sheriff's behavior," he whispered in her ear before helping her mount. He kept a hand on her calf as he looked up at her. "It will not happen again."

Adelaide's expression softened and she smiled down at him.

"It is all right, Guy. We are leaving here. Perhaps there will be a new sheriff the next time we visit."

Guy smiled back at her before going to mount his own horse and start their train moving.

* * *

In the forest, the gang waited impatiently for the tax shipment. They had made their way to the road just after dawn to be sure not to miss it, but the waiting was inevitably boring. The day began to warm up, even with the little bit of sunlight that made its way through the trees, and the men became restless. Before much longer, they heard the pounding of hooves on the road, the jangle of bits and spurs, the creak of wood and leather, that signaled the approach of a large group. The men and women hiding in the trees tensed as the outriders came around the corner, and watched nervously as more and then more horses and wagons appeared. They were outnumbered nearly five to one, but they could not let that fact stop them from trying. Robin and Marian stepped in front of the train, while the others ranged about it on either side just outside of the tree line, all of them with weapons ready. Robin had been careful to keep Allan toward the back, mainly out of Gisbourne's direct view.

"I believe you have something for us, my friends," Robin began.

Guy moved his stallion to the forefront of the group, giving only a momentary pause as he spotted Marian next to Robin.

"Hood, you are outnumbered. There is nothing here for you."

"I beg to differ, Gisbourne. The people of this shire are suffering because of the taxes you and the sheriff have leveled. They worked hard for that money. It is theirs."

"I am afraid that is not my concern. My job is to get this money to Prince John."

"And _that _is not my concern. Give us the money and no one need get hurt. Tell us, Gisbourne, where is your lovely new wife, eh?"

Guy swallowed an oath as Adelaide rode up beside him.

"I am here. You are Robin Hood?"

"I am."

Robin looked up at the woman on the chestnut mare, noting the look of fear that briefly crossed Guy's face and the subtle way he moved his stallion to stand slightly before hers. If he thought for a moment that Guy had feelings, he would've sworn he was being protective.

"Your people are under the thumb of a poor ruler; I have seen that they are suffering as a result." Adelaide spoke with the anger of her earlier meeting with Sheriff Vasey in her words.

"I agree. Prince John would make himself king, and with the help of traitors and liars such as your husband, the people suffer for his greed."

"You are right."

"What?" Robin and Guy spoke together, but Adelaide ignored her husband, focusing on the outlaw instead.

"The people _are_ suffering. But I wonder—have you never made a mistake, Robin of Locksley?" Purposely, Adelaide used his former title to remind him of at least one possible error. To Guy's horror, Adelaide then dismounted and walked calmly toward Robin Hood; quickly, Guy followed suit, motioning for his men to stay put. He pulled out his sword and placed himself in front of his wife.

"What are you doing, Adelaide?" he growled over his shoulder at her.

Adelaide touched his arm, peering around his body.

"Put away your sword, Guy. Robin Hood will not harm us, will you?"

"So long as I am not provoked."

"There, you see? We are perfectly safe. I wish to speak with you, Robin Hood. Alone."

Guy looked at her, eyes wide with shock.

"I will not allow it, Adelaide! Go back to the center of the train, where you will be safe. I will handle Robin Hood." Guy had still not put away his sword. Adelaide walked around his sword arm to stand before him, reaching up to take his face into her hands.

"Guy, look at me. You must trust me."

To the revulsion of the gang, Adelaide leaned up and placed a passionate kiss on Guy's lips. His face searched his wife's, and for a moment, Marian saw the man she had known lurked inside of him, the man of "qualities."

Adelaide walked toward Robin, taking his arm to lead him a bit away. Guy watched them, his eyes hard, as he studiously avoided looking at Marian.

"You look well, Guy," Marian said, trying to break the uneasy silence. The only other sounds were the jangle of the harnesses as the horses stomped and blew impatiently.

Guy turned his gaze to her, keeping his expression neutral.

"I _am_ well, Marian."

Guy looked around, puzzled. His gaze found Allan and he glared at his former lieutenant. "Where is your friend?"

"Deirdre? She is back at camp."

"Is she ill?" Guy sneered, sure that the only way the light-fingered Irishwoman would have missed out on this "adventure" was if she were dead or ill. Hurt as his pride still was over her betrayal, he did not wish for the former; she had been sweet to him once, even if it had all been a ruse.

Much had been slowly sidling up toward Marian to take his master's place as her protector and overheard the question.

"No, she's there with the baby—hers and Allan's."

Guy swallowed as Allan glared at Much. "I see."

* * *

Adelaide looked at Robin Hood, assessing. Since her tongue-lashing of the Sheriff of Nottingham, she felt powerful in a way she had never done before, even after Lord Henry's body had been delivered to her.

"I cannot let you take that tax money, you know," she began.

Robin laughed. "And how will you stop me?"

"I have some money at my home—Mablethorpe. I will give you the amount of the tax money plus another hundred crowns if you let us go unmolested."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"Guy is my husband."

"More the pity for you."

"The prince may deal harshly with him if the tax money is robbed; he might even kill him."

"So far I hear nothing that will make me change my mind."

"You would see him die?"

Robin crossed his arms and smiled ferally at Adelaide.

"We'd all be better off."

"I do not believe that."

"Gisbourne is a monster."

"No. I was married to a monster. Guy is a man, if misguided."

"How can you say that? He has killed people…"

"Have you never killed anyone?"

"But that was different. That was war."

"Not everyone's war is fought against an enemy they can see. Guy's battle is different, his enemies insidious. They taunt him with the promise of power and stability when all he wants is to make a good life for himself and his family. Moreover, he has been kind to me. We are to Mablethorpe after London. We will stay there most of the year. Guy will not be under the sheriff's thumb anymore."

"But he is still Prince John's man."

"For now. Who can see the future?"

Robin pondered a moment.

"You know I cannot let this money go to Prince John."

"If you steal the tax money, I shall claim illness so we may stop at Mablethorpe first. I will convince the men that it was all a ruse, that Guy had the money sent to Mablethorpe earlier without anyone's knowledge, and the prince will still get his money, only you will be short 100 crowns."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You do not. You only have my word as a lady."

Robin frowned. "Agreed. If we do not have the money within one week, we shall come to Mablethorpe and make things difficult for rich travelers there."

"Agreed. But make it two weeks; we are required to stop in London first, don't forget."

Robin nodded, then walked Adelaide back to Guy, who helped her to remount quickly.

"You have a strong woman as your wife, Gisbourne," Robin saluted Guy ruefully. "Time to disappear, gang."

Robin's outlaws all melted into the forest as Guy and Adelaide's party moved on.

* * *

"What did you promise him?" Guy asked when they were a safe distance away.

"The amount of the tax money, plus 100 crowns from Mablethorpe within two weeks."

"What?" Guy exclaimed.

"Would you have seen him steal the tax money?"

"I would have liked to see him try."

"And if he and his men died in the process?"

"Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"How is it men are all so cavalier with life? He said nearly the same thing about you."

Guy did not respond, instead glaring ahead of him.

"Did it ever cross your mind that that money was mine as well now?"

"Did it ever cross your mind that the prince may have been angry enough to have you killed if Robin Hood was successful in stealing the money? Did it ever cross your mind, after all that we have been through, that I would rather part with all of Mablethorpe than lose you? Did it ever cross your mind that the money I am going to give him was in the form of jewels that Lord Henry would give me after a particularly violent or 'fun' night and that I have no wish to keep them around?"

"Then why did you keep them all these years?"

"I kept the jewels—with all of our other things—in the room I used to share with Lord Henry. When he left, I moved to another room. I decided I would stay there until his return. When he did not come home alive, I merely stayed in the room I had been occupying, ignoring the main chamber."

"Next time I would appreciate it if you would consult me first." Guy was trying to salvage some sense that he was still in charge and reached over to pull on the chestnut mare's reins, taking both of them off the road as he signaled that the train should continue.

Adelaide smiled and leaned over to kiss the scowl off his mouth, her lips lingering on his.

"Next time, I will."

Guy smiled back at her, his eyes still closed in bliss from the taste of her mouth, his fingers going slack on the mare's reins.

"So long as your life and my money are not involved!" she declared, laughing and kicking her horse into a gallop.

Guy's eyes flew open in surprise and he let loose a laugh himself before following her.

* * *

From the cover of the trees, the gang was silently shadowing the tax shipment. At first, they had wondered what their leader was up to, but when Robin had explained that the Lady Adelaide, Gisbourne's bride, had promised the tax amount plus more, they had truly believed Robin had lost his mind to trust her. The group had come to the decision that they would follow Gisbourne and his bride for a bit, to make sure that they truly were headed for London. They figured to follow the contingent until mid-day, then make their way back to reach camp by nightfall. If the money from the Lady Adelaide did not arrive within a fortnight, they would become the pests to her shire that Robin had promised they would be.

* * *

**A/N: Taterbug, hope you enjoyed your "meeting"--no Deirdre or baby, I know, but their mention is disconcerting to Guy. Andie, hope you are now warming up to Addy--told you she'd come around, she just had a demon or two, in sheriff form, to confront first. Everyone else, hope you enjoyed as well--would love to hear from you!**


	47. Chapter 47: Kidnapped

Chapter Forty-seven: Kidnapped

Deirdre blinked, opening her eyes on a scene which confused her. It was early evening, the shadows were long and the air was cool as night approached. They were in a forest, and Tom lay next to her, swaddled in his blanket, but the ground she lay on was neither one of the campsites, nor was it in Madeline's hut. She reached for the baby only to find her hands and ankles bound and her eyes widened as she remembered collapsing. _Where is Allan? Tom and I must have been captured! Someone who wants the reward money. But why would they bring along Tom? Thank God they didn't kill him. We should have listened to Ruarc; the forest—with a price on our heads—is nowhere and no way to raise a baby. _

She heard the slight rustling of leaves and knew that someone was coming. She watched as aquamarine eyes peered into the clearing cautiously before entering.

"Ruarc!" She whispered in relief. "Over here! Untie me before they come back."

Ruarc came closer, confusion written on his face. "Before who comes back?"

"The people who kidnapped me and Tom. I'm sure they're bringing us to Prince John for the reward money."

Ruarc tilted his head, drawing his eyes down in consternation.

"What reward money? What people? There is only the three of us."

"Then who tied me up?"

Ruarc turned his back on her, squatting down to begin building a fire. His body radiated tension as he stacked the wood carefully into a tented shape, pushing small bits of brush underneath before breaking out his tinder box. Deirdre watched in confusion as Ruarc studiously ignored her.

"Ruarc? Who tied me up?"

Ruarc blew on the embers, coaxing the tiny flame into licking the larger pieces of wood. His voice was rough when he answered her, so quiet that she almost didn't hear him.

"I did."

"Ruarc?"

"You do not understand, Deirdre!" He spun around violently to face her.

"Then make me understand, Ruarc! Untie me and make me understand why you've done this thing!" She held her hands out to him, wrists up, gesturing with both arms and eyebrows that he should untie her now.

"I had to, Deirdre. I promised your father that I would protect you and so I am going to protect you."

"That was sixteen years ago, Ruarc! Where have you been for the last ten of those years? Untie me!"

"I cannot! Not until I know you won't run!"

"Where would I run to? I have the baby. Untie me, Ruarc."

Ruarc shook his head. "I'm sorry, Deirdre, but I cannot untie you. I cannot risk you running back to…" he swallowed noisily, pausing for so long that Deirdre didn't think he would finish. "Sherwood."

Tom began to snuffle and cry, and Deirdre wiggled closer to him.

"Please, Ruarc, untie me so I can comfort Tom," she begged.

Ruarc looked at her evenly, his eyes seeming to judge her. He walked over and leaned over her; Deirdre held up her hands expectantly as Tom's cries increased. She was shocked when he did not untie her, but rather grabbed her by the waist and hauled her back against a nearby tree, tying her to it tightly with another length of rope that had been at his belt before she even had a chance to protest. Only then did he carefully untie the knots he had made, releasing her hands.

"Ruarc, what are you doing? Ruarc!"

Deirdre was in a near panic as he moved back toward Tom, picking the baby up and holding him close to rock him. Tom calmed, but then began to cry again when his searching mouth found no mother's milk.

"Open your top, Deirdre," Ruarc commanded.

"What?" Deirdre had gone right past shock, right into anger, coated with a dusting of fear.

"Tom needs milk. Open your top to feed him." Ruarc turned his head as Deirdre's hands reached for her top.

"Are you ready?" Ruarc's head was still turned away as he asked the question.

"Yes."

Ruarc leaned down carefully, keeping his eyes as averted as he could, trying desperately to avoid the temptation of a glance, and placed the squalling infant in Deirdre's lap.

"Let me know when you're done," Ruarc instructed her gruffly, moving to sit near her and a little behind her so he could watch her and still give her privacy.

They sat in silence, the only sounds Tom's wet suckling and Deirdre's soft encouragement to the infant. After a time, Deirdre stuck a finger into Tom's mouth to break his hold on her breast, placing him in her lap as she re-closed her top and then laid him over her shoulder to pat and rub his back. Tom's deep blue eyes stared intently at his namesake and then he let out an enormous burp. Ruarc smiled affectionately at the baby, who gurgled and drooled down his mother's back. Deirdre checked his wrappings, which were oddly dry after a day without his mother's attention.

"Why are his wrappings dry?"

Ruarc smiled at Deirdre's shock, coming around to sit in front of her, and holding a finger out which Tom promptly grabbed, giggling as his "uncle" tickled his chin.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to let the poor lad lay around in wet wraps, am I? Did you forget my little brothers and sisters, and my mother, and how she insisted everyone learn to help with everything? I've been changing swaddlings since I was barely out of them myself, Lass. How could I let my boy lie in wet, dirty things?"

"He's not 'your boy', Ruarc."

"No, but he's yours and I'll always love him as though he were mine."

"Thank you. For keeping him safe."

"I would protect him with my life, Deirdre. And you. That's why I'm doing this."

Deirdre opened the other side of her top and Ruarc looked quickly away as she put Tom to her other breast to ease the ache.

"And what of Allan?"

"He will follow you, you said."

"Yes."

"Good."

Deirdre looked at Ruarc in consternation. The man was a definite riddle.

"What do you mean? I thought you were stealing Tom and I away from Allan."

"Och, don't flatter yourself, lass. Why would I want a woman who belongs to another man?"

"First of all, you've already said you want me. And secondly, what do you mean 'belong?'"

Ruarc grinned broadly.

"That's my lass!"

"I'm not your anything, you big oaf!"

Tom snuffled, disturbed by his mother's increase in tension.

"Relax, Firéad, you're upsetting young Ruarc."

"_Tom_ Ruarc."

"Fight and argue all you want, but when it comes down to it, you chose to name your baby after _me_ and not your husband. I know you wish he was mine." With a grin, Ruarc leaned over her to touch the baby's head and got a kick in the gut from Deirdre for his trouble.

"You're a horrible man, Ruarc O'Brian!"

"Aye, but you still love me," Ruarc managed to choke out, catching his breath.

"Like a brother."

"But you still love me." Ruarc smiled triumphantly at Deirdre's eloquent silence, and at the glare on her face.

After a time, Deirdre took Tom off her other breast, trying not to notice Ruarc staring at her exposed nipple for a moment before he caught himself and turned away. She burped Tom again and covered herself before handing the now-asleep infant to Ruarc.

"I have to relieve myself," she stated.

Ruarc placed Tom on his cloak by the fire and untied Deirdre from the tree. Carefully and quickly, he re-tied the rope to her waist.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't have you getting lost now, can I?"

"I won't leave, Ruarc. You have Tom."

"I won't take any chances, Deirdre. Now go. Relieve yourself and come back and I'll tell you my plan."

A short while later, Deirdre returned and sat by the fire. Ruarc took some bread and dried meat from his pack, offering them both to her, along with some wine from the wineskin that lay near his saddle.

"So what is this plan of yours, Ruarc?"

"If I cannot have you, Deirdre, then I will have you safe. You and yours, even if that does mean A' Dale. I am taking you out of England."

"What?" Deirdre exclaimed in shock. "Have you lost your mind, Ruarc O'Brian?"

"Maybe. But then again, maybe not. Is this the life you want to lead, Deirdre? Thieving, running, always in fear for your life?"

"It's not so bad."

"Is it the life you want for Tom? You know if Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham catch you and the others, they will not spare your baby. They will not raise him as their own or send him to your family or give him to a childless couple. They will kill him—likely, they will kill him first so you can watch your child die. Is that what you want for him? I have only known him for a bit over a month, and I already love him more than that. I want to see him make it to adulthood. I can train him as a warrior."

"So then he can die?"

"So then he can defend himself."

Deirdre was quiet for a time, staring into the flames as she mulled over Ruarc's words. How many times had she and Allan said the same thing? That Tom deserved a better life? How many times had they thought of leaving, only to be brought up by guilt, albeit mostly Allan's?

"You're right."

Ruarc was startled by Deirdre's agreement.

"What?"

"You're right. Tom deserves better."

"I'm glad at least one of his parents thinks so," Ruarc responded sarcastically.

"Allan thinks so, too," Deirdre answered caustically. "It's just—complicated."

"How can it be complicated to leave a bunch of outlaws and take your child to safety?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous." Deirdre raised an eyebrow at Ruarc, smiling in self-deprecation.

Ruarc grinned back.

"Look, I know what you told me of Allan's ups and downs with Robin and the others, but surely they would understand his need to protect his family?"

"You've heard Robin. He is so convinced that none of us is safe until King Richard returns that he would sacrifice us all for his cause."

Ruarc leaned forward aggressively.

"You cannot let him sacrifice you or Tom. Or Allan, if his death would really mean yours," he added at the look of censure on Deirdre's face. "Can I help it if I don't like the man for being the only thing to keep me from being in your bed?"

"Not the _only_ thing, Ruarc. There's that sick smile of yours too, those beady little pig eyes, and you know what they say about the size of men's hands…yours are _awfully_ small."

Ruarc grinned knowingly at Deirdre as he glanced down at his massive paws. They had played the put-down game for years, similar to the one she played with her dad. In this case, whoever took offense to the outrageous—and often completely false—claims of the other first, lost. You began with three things and from then on, it was one insult at a time.

"Aye, well, between us our child would be horribly ugly if he inherited your straw hair, your pig nose and your fat cheeks."

"Well, at least he'd have no sense of humor."

"And a foul temper he'd have too."

"He'd snore."

"And fart."

"I do _not_ fart!"

"Ha! You lose. Time to pay the price, Firéad."

Ruarc leaned in close, his mouth a hair's breadth from hers. Deirdre's eyes widened as she saw the unmistakable purpose in his eyes.

"What are you doing, Ruarc?"

With a wicked grin, he studied her face, then leaned forward and planted the kiss on her nose, making sure to lick the tip when he was done, just to make sure she was good and properly disgusted.

"Ewww!" Deirdre went to rub her nose with her arm; Ruarc's words stopped her.

"Remember lass, it's two for flinching—or wiping off in this case."

"You are such a…a…"

Ruarc continued to grin affectionately at her.

"Man!" she finished lamely.

"That's what all the ladies say." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she continued to glare at him.

"Untie me Ruarc."

"Oh, not this again. Maybe I ought to gag you as well."

"You. Wouldn't. Dare."

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to? I would dare anything, Deirdre. Especially for you."

Deirdre sighed. "I'm sorry, Ruarc. I'm sorry things didn't turn out differently."

"Really?" he looked at her hopefully, misreading her words on purpose.

"Yes. I'm sorry you haven't found someone else, but you will. It'll be my life's purpose to find you someone when we get back to Ireland."

"Maybe we're not headed to Ireland."

"Where else would we go? You have a rath in Ireland, don't you?"

"Do you think that in all my years of hiring out my sword, I haven't made friends in other countries, that I haven't acquired land in other countries?"

"So where are we going?"

"I don't know yet. I hear Italy is very nice this time of year. And it's beginning to thaw out in Sweden. Denmark is nice, and the valleys in Switzerland are breathtaking."

"How will Allan find us?"

"I'll send word when we get where we're going."

"And how will he get there?"

"I imagine he'll rob someone."

Deirdre glared at Ruarc for another moment before laying back and closing her eyes. She knew when Ruarc was this stubborn, it was best to go along. Besides, even though his methods were annoying, his intent was good—she just had to convince him that she wouldn't run.

* * *

In Sherwood, the gang had returned to an empty camp. Everything looked in place though, so no one worried, especially since Deirdre had spoken of possibly going to visit Madeleine rather than being alone. They all assumed she had stayed too long with the midwife and had then decided to stay the night so as to not risk tripping and falling in the dark with Tom in her arms.

* * *

**A/N: Go easy on poor Ruarc--it's not as bad as it seems!**


	48. Chapter 48: Gone

Chapter Forty-eight: Gone

The next morning, Allan, Will, and Djaq hiked to Madeleine's house to bring Deirdre back and tell her of the meeting between Robin and Gisbourne's new wife. They had had breakfast before leaving, thinking Deirdre might return then; when she hadn't, Allan had assumed she was in a snit and pouting at Madeleine's. The threesome set out to go and fetch her, talking and laughing along the way. They were still not worried as they entered the little clearing and saw only Madeleine working in the garden; they assumed that Deidre was either in the hut, in the woods, or had already left by another route and they had missed her.

"Oi!" Allan called cheerily, amending his greeting at the midwife's black look. "I mean, good mornin', Mother."

"What brings you lot here?"

"Where's Deirdre?"

"How should I know—do I look like her husband, that I should know where she is?"

Allan's smile faltered.

"But she was 'ere last night?"

"Last month, more like. Have you two gotten into another row?"

Allan swallowed and exchanged worried glances with Will and Djaq.

"No. Deirdre spoke of comin' 'ere while the rest of us…done a job."

"After the tax shipment, were ye?"  
Allan had long ago learned that the woman was extremely astute and was no longer frightened by her seemingly supernatural knowledge.

"Aye. And we thought it might be dangerous, so I told Deirdre to stay at camp with Tom."

"And she took this about as well as one can imagine, no doubt?"

"Well, she wasn't 'appy about it," Allan informed her.

"No," Madeleine replied dryly, looking at Allan as though he were simple. "Have you tried looking around Sherwood? The other camp, maybe? Or one of the outlying villages?"

Allan frowned, his worry turning to anger as he thought that it would be like Deirdre if she had worked herself into a temper to go off like that.

"If she comes here, Mother…"

"I'll hog-tie her and come fetch you."

Allan and the others turned to go and begin their search.

* * *

By mid-day, the rest of the gang had been enlisted in finding Deirdre and Tom. By nightfall, it was apparent that she was not anywhere near Nottingham and its environs—she was not at the winter camp, no one had seen her in any of the villages, and the sheriff was not crowing about her capture. Will and Robin were the last to come in, having snuck into the dungeon just to be absolutely sure she was not there. They arrived at camp as the others were eating supper.

Robin shook his head sadly at Allan, who had been playing with his food, unable to eat. "I'm sorry, Allan. There's no sign of her. It's like she just vanished. You don't think—I mean, there's nothing going on between her and Ruarc, is there? She wouldn't have run away with him?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I dunno, Robin. You know she loves 'im, but she told me she wasn't _in_ love with 'im. She told me she was in love with _me_."  
Little John spoke up quietly, almost unwillingly.

"They _do_ share a past, though. And he's made no bones about how he feels about her."

"Thanks, John," Allan responded sarcastically.

"I only meant…"

"I know. And you're right." Allan tossed the plate of uneaten food onto the ground and stalked out of camp, followed by Marian.

Allan stood, leaning against a young oak tree in the nearly total darkness. Will and Robin had had to return to camp slowly to avoid breaking their legs or getting lost. Marian picked her way cautiously over to Allan and placed a hand on his tense shoulder. Allan turned to look at Robin's wife.

"Marian, do you ever think that what we're doin', that it don't make a bit o' difference to the poor?"

"No."

"Yeah, well I do. The sheriff taxes 'em so high they can't eat, so we feed 'em and steal back their tax money to give back to 'em, so the sheriff taxes 'em more. It's like we ain't actually helpin' at all; might even be makin' it worse. And all for what? So we can live in the forest and be on the run all the time? I know I'm kinda the wide boy, but when I'm around Deirdre, I feel like there's somethin' more, like I could have the life I shoulda had if Mam hadn't died and Da left me and Tom to fend for ourselves. It's gonna sound weird, but I want a home with 'er, Marian. I just want a home with 'er and a chance to raise our kids in peace."

They were silent for a moment, both reflecting on the home they wanted with their loves, the chance to raise a family.

"She didn't run off with Ruarc," Marian stated with conviction.

"How do you know? Deirdre wanted that home, too. Ruarc can give it to 'er—and Tom. Maybe she thought it was better to be with Ruarc if he could give Tom a life, and safety. She asked me to leave with her, you know, to take off for Ireland with her and Tom. I said no, said as 'ow I couldn't betray Robin again. I was mad at 'er for even thinkin' of it, and told 'er not to say it again."

"Robin would understand."

"No 'e wouldn't. You know 'ow 'e is when it comes to the poor. He's…I dunno…scary intense about it sometimes. Deirdre believes in helpin' the poor, too, you know."

"I know."

"She said we could do them more good if we wasn't so poor ourselves. Ruarc ain't poor."

"She loves you, Allan."

"She _loved_ me, you mean. Deirdre's a kinda wide-boy too—you know, for a girl. Maybe she got sick o' me tellin' 'er she can't come with or maybe she just decided it was time to go somewhere safer with Tom. Go off with Ruarc and give away half their money. I dunno."

"I don't believe that, Allan."

"When Robin was tyin' yer hands, orderin' you about, how'd you feel about 'im?"

Marian paused, choosing her answer carefully.

"I was angry."

"I know. I almost paid for that with my eye."

Allan and Marian exchanged a rueful smile.

"But I still loved him."

"And if there had been another man there, another man you cared about, offerin' you freedom?"

"There wasn't."

"If there was?"

Marian sighed. "I love Robin. Good and bad, rich and poor, sickness and health, all that."

I dunno, Marian. There's no sign of a struggle—even the fire got banked. Wherever she went, it was of 'er own free will."

* * *

The next day found Deirdre waking up stiff and sore from sleeping with her arms and legs tied. Sometime in the night, Ruarc had hauled her back against the tree and tied her to it once more. Tom and Ruarc were nowhere to be seen and Deirdre began to panic. Although she knew Ruarc would not hurt Tom, nor separate her from her son, her mother's instincts still had her on edge until the two returned from the woods.

"Where were you?" she demanded.

"Told you I should've gagged your mum," Ruarc spoke, smiling at the infant in his arms. Tom gave a little cry as he heard his mother's voice.

"All right, all right, little one. Deirdre, he's hungry."

Frowning, Deirdre opened her top, noticing that Ruarc still turned his head away, although his eyes darted quickly to her chest before he handed her the baby and looked away, sitting once more behind her. She fed Tom, whose swaddlings were once more dry, and then handed him up to Ruarc before demanding he untie her so she could go and relieve herself. Again, he refused, tying the lead rope to her waist, grinning as she huffed off into the trees, spewing curses at him as she went.

When she returned, he had Aimhirghin saddled and ready to go.

"We'll break our fast on the road. Time to go."

Ruarc reached for her and placed her on the saddle, handing up Tom before reaching for a stirrup himself. Deirdre quickly booted Aimhirghin's sides, trying to get the stallion to bolt, but he was trained to only respond to his master's touch, and so he only snorted at the feel of Deirdre's heels against his ribs. Ruarc laughed as he swung himself up behind her, his arms holding her steady before him.

"Nice try, Deirdre. And here I was thinking you'd agreed with me last night and that I could untie you."

"You were never thinking that," Deirdre spat, embarrassed that her attempt had failed.

"Aye, well, it sounded good, didn't it? You'll see, Deirdre. We'll get to where we're going and then we'll send for Allan. He'll have to leave to come and fetch his wife and child—no way would Robin keep him from that—and if he just happens to not return to Sherwood, who's to say if he was or was not killed along the road? He could lead a happy life with you and Tom, and no worries about Robin blackening his name. It'll work out, I swear."

"It had better, Ruarc. If anything happens to Tom along this trip, or to Allan when he comes to find us, I'll never forgive you, do you hear?"

"I hear, lass. I hear." Ruarc's smile faded and he kissed the top of her head before clicking his tongue at Aimhirghin.

* * *

Will and Djaq were outside scouting the outskirts of the camp just as the sun came out, looking for signs that Deirdre had not left of her own free will.

"It just doesn't add up," Will was saying as he studied the ground. "They love each other. Why would she just leave like that?"

"She did not. Something is not right. They did not have a fight, she never threatened to leave, and Deirdre is too good of a mother…" Djaq stopped, remembering something she had seen in the camp that had not made sense.

"She did not leave, she was taken!" Djaq ran back into the camp, closely followed by Will.

"What makes you say that?" the young carpenter asked.

"Say what?" Robin demanded as Djaq yelled at the door to the bower.

Allan answered, hair sticking up, eyes blood-shot with dark circles under them.

"What?"

Djaq pushed past him.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what? I'm not bein' funny, Djaq, but what're you lookin' for?"

"Last night, when we were settling in, I saw the rattle Deirdre's mom sent—the one Tom loves so much with all the colors on it, and the feathers you tickle his belly with. Deirdre would never leave without that."

Allan's sleepy expression cleared immediately; he looked around him, finding the rattle on the ground by the bassinet.

"You're right. God, I'm an idiot!"

"You're not an idiot. None of us realized," Djaq answered.

"You did."

"That does not matter. What matters is finding her now. We know the sheriff didn't take her, so who did?"

Allan's face went from grim to angry.

"Ruarc."

He looked around at the dubious faces of the others.

"No. Ruarc's a warrior. Why would he abduct a woman? Especially Deirdre?" Much asked. Ruarc's stories of conquest and his compliments to Much's cooking had won him a place in the former servant's heart; in Much's eyes, Ruarc would be the hero, not the villain.

"Because he's in love with her."

"Well, yes, but surely he wouldn't _take_ her…"

"Much, I know you always want to see the best in people—most of the time," Allan smiled ruefully at him, "but this time, you're wrong. I think 'e would take 'er."

Allan ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath on an oath.

"I'm a damned fool. It's not like 'e didn't warn me. 'I'd take 'er if I thought I could, A' Dale,'" Allan mimicked Ruarc's Irish accent.

Robin sighed. "Then we'd better get tracking them. They've already got at least a day and a night's head-start; we've no way of knowing when he took her—if he got her early in the day while we were after the taxes, he could have miles and miles on us by now."

"Robin, this could take us away from Sherwood for days, maybe even weeks," Allan put forth.

"I know." Robin's face was grim.

* * *

"Ruarc, you know I won't be able to stop Allan from killing you this time." Deirdre spoke over her shoulder at Ruarc, as they sat comfortably in the saddle.

"So long as I have you somewhere safe by then, I don't care."

"Do you want to die?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"But without the love of your heart, you would?"

"Ruarc, it's not the same."

"How is it not the same, Deirdre?"

"You've been away for ten years. Ten years and you couldn't have said anything?"

Ruarc still refused to tell Deirdre of the part her father had played in keeping him away from her; Deirdre loved her father, and Ruarc would sooner die than to sew the seeds of distrust between them.

"I was not worthy of you," Ruarc's voice was so soft, that even though he spoke nearly in her ear, Deirdre could barely hear him.

"Said who?" Deirdre was truly angry with him. He was strong and brave and handsome and—most of the time—trustworthy. Had she never met Allan, she would have been proud to call him husband. It angered her that he could speak so poorly of himself.

"No one needed to tell me, lass. I was never good enough for you."

"You're a liar, Ruarc O'Brian. And a poor one at that."

"A' Dale's not good enough for you, either."

"What?"

"Well, he's not. You should be married to a king or a prince."

"Like that weasel-faced Prince John?"

Ruarc laughed at the disgust that tinged Deirdre's voice.

"No, like the king of Them," Ruarc replied, referring to the Fairy Folk. "Someone who could give you everything you wanted with a snap of his fingers and would keep you safe forever, to boot."

"Forever's a long time, Ruarc."

"Aye, that it is, lass. That it is."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you like! Please R&R. Also, could we please send a prayer to help my fabulous beta, who is down with the flu--get better soon, luv!**


	49. Chapter 49: Feint

**A/N: Glad you're feeling better, whatsthefracas!**

* * *

Chapter Forty-nine: Feint

They arrived in London at mid-day. The city was noisy, crowded, and smelled awful—the odors of human and animal waste combining with that of unwashed bodies pushed together in close quarters and rotting meat made Guy and those in his party gag as they passed along the narrow streets single-file to avoid being hit by slops. Just outside the city gates, Guy had insisted Adelaide transfer to the coach, and Adelaide was grateful for the wooden roof and cloth sides, and for the dried herbs Guy had hung at the four corners and in the middle before they had entered the city. The sound and scent of the slops hitting the roof made her feel sorry for her husband and the men-at-arms who rode uncovered outside.

Guy rode straight for the prince's London residence, wanting to be rid of his burden as soon as possible so that he and Addy could leave for Mablethorpe. After discussing in detail why she had been still using the seeds, Guy had agreed that she should continue to use them until their arrival at Mablethorpe; he did not want to be stuck anywhere outside of their home either if her pregnancy made her infirm. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought of how close they were to home, and how much he was going to enjoy getting her with child. That thought led him to Lord Henry and his abuses, which led to the servants who had laughed at her, the advisors who had insisted on viewing her first time to ensure her virginity, and the smile vanished to be replaced by a cold, hard look of fury. Those people would pay for their treatment of Adelaide, and Guy would make it clear to the new staff that anyone caught even giving his lady the slightest grief would be dealt with. He knew that he could never just kill or maim any member of the staff in front of Adelaide—she was too kind of heart for that—but if the person in question were to suddenly…disappear…who was to say the serf had not just moved on?

It was in this frame of mind that Guy and his party were ushered through the gates and into the courtyard. The prince himself came bouncing down the stairs like an excited child to greet them, barely pausing to greet Guy as he headed for the tax consignment.

"Bring it in, bring it in! Let's see what Nottingham has for me, eh? Come, come, everyone. Inside." He ushered Guy and the guards who were carrying the taxes into his audience chambers, where he eagerly waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as Guy took the key and opened the large chest. Inside, gold and silver gleamed—some was money, some was jewelry. The prince dipped his hands in it like it was washing water, running his fingers through the tax payment. He closed his eyes and groaned in almost sexual pleasure.

Guy swallowed, disgusted by the display.

"My Lord, we have a gift for you as well, from Lord Vasey."

"Presents? For me? Oh, you _do_ love me, don't you?"

"Of course, My Lord; however, this is from Lord Vasey of Nottingham."

The prince smiled benignly at Guy's modesty and his eyes widened in glee as Guy opened the cloth covering on the jeweled knife set.

"You have done well, Sir Guy, to get this present to me. Oh, and the taxes, of course. Will you be staying long? There is someone here who is just dying to see you, I'm sure."

From the back of the hall, a tall man, slightly older than Guy, stepped forward.

"Fàelàn will be accompanying you to retrieve the taxes from Mablethorpe."

Guy barely disguised his shock at seeing the Irishman again; he had not seen the older man since Deirdre's wedding and escape from justice, and had nearly forgotten about him. He found it odd that he had no feelings toward the man one way or another now—perhaps thanks to his marriage to Adelaide. He held out his hand to show good faith; Fàelàn cocked an eyebrow at him and took it. There were likely things they would speak of, but not here, not now.

* * *

It was Will who found the first sign—fresh horse tracks in the middle of some rather heavy brush. The horse had been there for a while, as evidenced by the torn grass along the edges of the brush, and the relatively fresh droppings. No farmer's nag would have a reason to be there, and horses preferred to be in more open spaces where they could smell danger coming and run away. He was certain it was from Ruarc's stallion. He called to the others, who came running and found him examining the way the horse had left the cover of the brush. He pointed with his head as his eyes followed the indentations of hooves and feet.

"They were here. A large man." Will caressed the indentations of the boots in the soft earth. "He was weighed down here."

Allan's face was grim. "Any sign o' struggle?"

"No."

Djaq put a hand on Allan's forearm. "He might have drugged her. You don't know that she went willingly with him."

"I'm still gonna kill 'im."

The others nodded; no one disagreed that Ruarc—if it was he who had taken Deirdre—had stepped over the line.

"Which way, Will?" Marian asked.

"West."

"He's takin' 'er to Ireland." Allan's eyes snapped fire and his nose was pinched in anger.

"Or trying to make us think he is," Robin responded grimly.

"Either way, it's all we've got to go on, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Allan, I'm afraid it is. Time's a-wastin' lads. Let's go."

* * *

That evening found Ruarc and Deirdre camped outdoors again as Ruarc tried to avoid contact with other people until he was certain he could trust Deirdre to not run away. He had decided that it was time to turn south now, before doubling back east; he only hoped the gang was following the trail he had allowed Deirdre to leave for them. He had sent word for his men to meet him, to catch up the outlaws and to kidnap A' Dale when they arrived at their destination. He knew Robin Hood and the others would not go along with his plan, but Deirdre's husband just might, particularly since it would give him a life of peace, with no worries about his family or money ever again.

Tom had settled where Deirdre had lain him next to her, and as he looked across the fire at them, Ruarc felt a small stab of guilt; he knew they should be with Allan, that he should not have kidnapped them. He also knew that what he was doing was the only way to ensure their safety, but wasn't sure that Deirdre would trust him enough just yet if she knew the whole plan. He frowned at the unfairness of it all, wishing once more that this was a journey he was taking with _his_ wife, _his_ child. He fought the urge to go to Deirdre, to untie her and make love to her until she forgot all about Allan A' Dale.

"What are you thinking, Ruarc?"

Ruarc blinked, shaking his head a bit to clear it.

"What?"  
"I asked what you were thinking. You looked very…distant," Deirdre replied.

"I was thinking…" _how good you would look naked underneath me_. "I was thinking of our best route to Ireland, and how quickly I can get word to Allan once we're there." Ruarc nearly tripped over the use of A' Dale's Christian name, but knew he had to gain Deirdre's trust and cooperation for this to work properly. She had to appear willing, but he still had no idea how he was going to get her to appear meek and servile without giving away the whole plan—and if he told her _everything_…it was a great risk he was taking, with all their lives, and he was afraid Deirdre would not cooperate.

"So we _are_ going to Ireland."

"Aye, we are." Ruarc smiled in acknowledgement.

"To your rath?"

"Aye."

"And what'll you do once we're there?"

"I told you, I'll send for…Allan."

"And if Allan comes and takes me away?"

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because if he's half the man you claim he is, he'll want you safe. I can make you safe. I can make it so that no one will harm you—any of you."

"But Prince John is ruler of Ireland. Where would we be safe there?"

"I'm tellin' you, lass. I've fought many battles; I've gained much wealth. I'll pay the price on your head and the prince will let you live."

"And if he doesn't? I'm sure my da thought of that."

"Aye, well, I've a plan then, don't I?"

"I suppose you must."

"Trust me, lass. I told you, I promised your da when he first brought you home that I would protect you and I know I should've kept my word for the last ten years. Let me do it now."

Deirdre looked into Ruarc's solemn blue eyes and couldn't help but believe that he had her best intentions in mind. She had watched him with Tom, to whom he behaved like he actually _was_ the boy's uncle.

"All right. I trust you, Ruarc. But if you make me regret that decision…"

"I know, I know—I'll not have need of me balls any more."

* * *

The gang had followed the trail all day, finding it surprisingly easy to track. That night, as they sat around a small fire, they stared nervously into the dark beyond the flames.

"It's a trap. It's got to be a trap." Robin stared at the flames, holding Marian's hand.

Beyond the light, Will and Little John had been given first watch; Allan, Djaq, and Much sat ringed around the fire, with room between them to grab their weapons without injuring the others.

"O' course it's a trap. I knew we couldn't trust that man."

Allan's anger, rather than abating as the day had passed, had somehow gotten hotter with every mile. Allan was usually so happy-go-lucky, and it pained Robin to see his friend this _un_happy. He knew that Allan's anger at this point would lead him to kill Ruarc if he got the chance.

"If he's laid a finger on 'er..." Allan's face was grim at the thought.

"Try not to think about that. Get some sleep, Allan, so we can catch them up tomorrow."

Allan nodded and lay down, throwing his blanket over his legs.

_In the darkness, Ruarc had gagged Deirdre, whose eyes were huge and round in her face; her tied hands were secured to a tree, stretching her arms over her head as she lay helplessly on the ground. Ruarc kneeled between her legs, leering as he rucked up her skirt and opened his braes. He dropped his hands to either side of Deirdre's chest and leaned his erection against her before plunging it into her, causing her to cry out through the gag. He thrust hard into her for long moments as the tears streamed down her face and she struggled against him. Suddenly, her tears turned to moans of pleasure; she stopped fighting Ruarc and wrapped her legs around him, urging him on with her body. Ruarc continued to thrust into her as their breathing became more ragged; their bodies tensed as he roared his completion, filling her with his seed. He pulled the gag from her mouth and Deirdre said, "I love you, Ruarc. Allan is nothing to me." Across the fire from the couple, Tom stood on little toddler legs and called out, "Da!" Ruarc waved at the boy, who lay back down to go to sleep, then he grabbed Deirdre's hips, rolling her over on top of him, and Deirdre began to ride up and down on his erection once more. Ruarc looked up and back at where Allan stood, immobilized to a tree. "They're mine now, A' Dale," he grinned before groaning in pleasure and thrusting back at Deirdre._

"No!" Allan awoke from the nightmare with a start; his breathing was ragged and he was drenched in sweat as he rolled up to relieve Will on watch. Very first light found the outlaws hard on the trail again, hoping to catch Ruarc before sundown.

* * *

Fàelàn O'Niall's face was completely emotionless as he took Gisbourne's hand.

"Sir Guy—forgive me, I hear it is 'My Lord' now as well."

"Lord Fàelàn." Guy inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, I have married Lady Adelaide of Mablethorpe."

"So the prince tells me."

Prince John laughed and clapped his hands.

"You simply must stay the night and leave in the morning. Such stimulating dinner conversation we will have!"

The two men looked at each other uneasily, each determined to keep things civil.

"Of course, My Lord Prince. I shall go and tell my wife right away." Guy looked at the prince, who waved a dismissive hand. He strode toward the wagon in which Adelaide sat, signaling to his sergeant to begin unloading along the way.

"What's wrong, Guy?" Adelaide asked as he peered into the cart with a worried look on his face.

"We are to stay the night. The prince has given us an escort who will guide Mablethorpe's taxes back here."

Adelaide smiled gently at her husband.

"Is that all? Do not look so worried, my husband," she commanded softly, leaning forward a bit to stroke his face before taking the hand he offered and allowing him to help her out of the cart.

"Set yourselves up for the night's stay; I will be along before supper to speak with you."

"Of course, Guy."

* * *

Guy strode into the room Adelaide and the other women would share for the evening—other lords were arriving with their taxes and the castle was crowded, so no one would get a private room except for the prince himself.

"My Lady, I would walk with you before supper. There are matters we need to discuss," Guy stated, holding out his hand to Adelaide.

The other women in the room cast sidelong glances at Guy, most wishing their husbands were so young or so handsome. Adelaide knew the walk she and Guy were about to take would be the topic of much speculation amongst the ladies. Guy took her arm and steered her from the room; as the door closed, they could hear the sound of the younger women's tittering.

Many of the corridors were busy, with servants and lords and ladies and men-at-arms moving quickly from one point to another. Guy steered Adelaide up a set of stairs and down another corridor before pulling her into a quiet alcove, leaning back against the wall so he could keep an eye on the hallway itself while he talked to his wife.

"Adelaide, there is something you must know." Guy was so serious that Adelaide was immediately silent, asking the question with her eyes.

"The man who will escort us with the taxes, the man we will see at supper tonight…"

Guy hesitated, uncomfortable still with speaking of former rejections; seeing Marian on the road had not helped. Despite Adelaide's acceptance, despite the fact that she was his wife now, he still felt the sting of Marian's and Deirdre's dismissals of him.

"What about him, Guy?"

"Do you remember me speaking of Deirdre O'Niall?"

Adelaide seemed to search her memory for a minute, her eyebrows drawn down in concentration.

"Was she not one of those…hussies…you told me of?" Adelaide used the strongest word she was comfortable with for a woman who strung men along, playing with their emotions; even then, she leaned in closer to Guy to whisper the word.

Guy smiled at his wife—when he saw her like this, so uncomfortable with saying certain words, it was hard to imagine the things Lord Henry had done to her; she seemed so…innocent. Guy bent to capture her lips, unable to resist a lingering kiss before giving her his reply.

"She is. Her father is here. He is the man we will meet at supper, the man who will travel with us back to Mablethorpe and then escort me back here with the taxes."

"You mean 'us'."

"Excuse me?"

"You mean, he will escort _us_ back, not just you."

"Adelaide, when we reach Mablethorpe, you will remain; I will come back as soon as I see the taxes safely into the prince's hands."

"They are taxes you are not responsible for, Guy; therefore, I will come as well."

"I am your husband. I am responsible."

"But you were not at Mablethorpe last year. You are _not_ responsible."

"Adelaide, are your taxes lacking?"

"No, of course not. I just…"

"What is it, Addy?" Guy held her chin and looked into her deep green eyes.

"After…the fight…you were going to leave me at Mablethorpe and go back to Locksley. I guess this feels too much like that coming true. I want to be by your side, Guy. No matter what. Forever. Is that so wrong?"

Guy inhaled sharply, once more overwhelmed by this woman's love. She knew his every dark secret, including his attempted assassination of the king, and still she wanted to be with him. She was the only one who could make him feel worthy and humble all at once.

"We have strayed off the topic, Adelaide," he answered firmly. "I just wanted you to know with whom we would be dining, since Prince John seems intent upon some mischief." The last part he whispered in her ear, to ensure no one overheard.

Adelaide wound her arms around his neck, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"He is the father of a woman who wronged you."

Adelaide's frown had Guy's lips quirking up in a small smile.

"But I pushed for the prince's approval of the match." He felt odd defending Deirdre to his wife, but her disapproval of Deirdre made him feel like he had to.

"It does not matter. What matters is us. I will be the model of propriety, My Lord Husband. And I am traveling back with you from Mablethorpe." Adelaide sealed this last part with a kiss that had Guy's eyes closing in pure bliss.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? Will Allan's nighmare come true? Will there be a rucus over dinner in the castle? And what, exactly, is Ruarc up to? I hope you liked!**


	50. Chapter 50: The Plan

Chapter Fifty: The Plan

Prince John was restless. Guy and Fàelàn had behaved quite well at dinner, and even his attempted baiting of the Lady Adelaide by telling her about the previous relationship of the men had gone poorly. _So My Lord Husband tells me_, she had said. He sighed, resigned to the fact that the only fun he would get from this trio was watching them squirm as they did their best to remain civil. Prince John frowned--their attempts at civility were beginning to look nearly like friendship as they talked comfortably with one another, laughing and smiling all the while.

* * *

The next morning, Deirdre felt an odd sensation in her hands and looked down to find them unbound. She looked up quickly at Ruarc, who sat calmly across the fire from her, tearing off hunks of bread and eating them one by one. Tom began to squirm and cry, ready for breakfast and a clean nappy. Ruarc put down his bread and reached for the baby.

"Go on and relieve yourself while I change him," he said quietly, placing a gentle kiss on Tom's forehead before placing him on the ground and opening the cloth, making a grimace of disgust at the foul odor that wafted up to his nostrils; Deirdre grinned at the look on his face and went off to find a bush.

By the time Deirdre returned, Tom was clean and dry; Ruarc looked up to smile warmly at her as he handed her the baby.

"So why did you untie me?"

"If you enjoyed me having you tied up so much, I could always bind you again," Ruarc teased, pouring her a cup of warm cider and handing it to her as Tom suckled hungrily.

Deirdre frowned at him. "That's not what I meant and you know it," she scolded.

"All right. I have a plan and it would be better to have your cooperation. Besides, I hate feeling like I've taken you against your will."

Deirdre cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ruarc, I don't know how to break this to you, but the second you took me and Tom from camp without asking…"

"I know, I know. And I've regretted every minute since. Well, not _every_ minute," he amended with a wink at her surprised look.

"So what is your plan?"

"To get the prince to grant amnesty to you and Allan."

"And how will you do that?"

"Robin Hood is a major pain in his royal buttocks right now, correct?"

Deirdre nodded her agreement.

"So what if I were to offer to diminish his gang by two, pay the price on both your heads, as well as buying a small herd of fine war horses that we would raise for his sole use?"

"I don't know, Ruarc. It seems to me like my da would already have made such deals if it's only about the money."

Ruarc sighed in exasperation—_I should've known she'd be too bright to catch that this is more about the prince's pride than his coffers_, he thought ruefully.

"The prince needs money more than anything else. I don't think he'll turn down an offer of more, freely given, _and_ the chance to see Robin Hood's gang weakened at the same time."

At Deirdre's uncertain look, Ruarc continued, "If we just go to Ireland, without paying him first, what's to keep him from coming after you there at any moment?"

Deirdre frowned, but nodded. "I guess it's all we've got, unless we want to move to Germany or Italy or something. Of course, there's always returning to Sherwood," she put forth wryly, blinking ingenuously at him as he shook his head. "So what if the prince comes after us?"

"Are you good at escaping, Lass?"

Deirdre snorted, the sound very un-ladylike. "Am I not a ferret?"

"That you are and always have been." Ruarc's smile lit his face, making a part of Deirdre regret that he had not stayed with them when her family moved to England.

* * *

Robin stopped, staring in confusion toward the south, the sunset coloring his right cheek..

"Now why would the man head south?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Are you sure it's 'im, Robin? It could be someone else. I say we go to Ireland and track down where 'e lives." Allan's blue eyes were ringed in dark circles; the nightmares of the previous evening had continued to haunt him all day.

"I'm sure it's him. His horse's right front shoe has a chip in the front of it. See there?" He pointed to the deeper indentation at the front of the shoe's mark.

"I'm not bein' funny, Robin, but 'ow is it bein' so easy to follow 'im? Why's 'e stayin' on the road instead o' goin' across the grass?"

"I don't know, but we need to catch him soon."

Little John had been muttering about the poor of Nottingham needing them, and Robin also felt the loss of the time they were devoting to finding Deirdre. He couldn't help but be angry as he thought of the suffering of the people of Nottingham, worrying about how they were coping without his help, and wondering for the hundredth time if perhaps Deirdre had gone voluntarily and this was all a colossal waste of time. He wanted to call the hunt quits, but knew Allan would be devastated if they did; he was also partially afraid that if they didn't help Allan, Allan would be desperate enough to ask the sheriff for help, and the sheriff would require a show of loyalty in exchange—a show of loyalty that could kill the rest of them.

"Let's go," he said grimly.

* * *

The next day, Ruarc turned east, and for two more days they traveled until they came to the outskirts of London. Ruarc sent a messenger to his men, and then sent the men to collect Allan. The gang was mostly nervous as they recognized Ruarc's men jogging up to them on their horses along the very track they were following Ruarc on. Allan however, launched himself at the closest one, yanking him roughly from his saddle.

"What've you done with 'er?" he yelled, knife at the man's throat.

The red-haired man looked up at Allan as calmly as if they were having a pint in a pub.

"Ruarc wants to see ya," he responded.

"If 'e's hurt 'er, I'll kill 'im!"

"Ruarc ain't gonna hurt no one—least, not the woman or the child. It ain't his way. You now…"

"Take me to 'im!"

The man smiled ironically at Allan. "That were the plan. So, if you'll let me up…"

Allan grudgingly moved off of the man and allowed him to stand. The man reached for his saddle and Allan grabbed at him.

"Whoa, Mate. We all ride or we all walk."

"I was gonna let you ride pillion with me."

"What about the rest o' the gang?"

"What about them? Ruarc only said you."

"Why should we let you go off without us?" Robin questioned belligerently.

"Because Ruarc's plan does not involve the rest of you," the man returned.

"Well, Ruarc's just going to have to think again then, isn't he?"

The tall man frowned, but could see no way around it unless they fought the others, possibly killing them in the process—Ruarc's plan had not included anyone's death—least of all the death of any women. He shrugged and turned away to lead them back to Ruarc's camp after a quick stop to purchase more horses with money Ruarc had given them for any necessities. If his leader wanted the others dead, they would likely hire some men to do it there; no sense stirring up trouble for no reason.

* * *

The ride to Mablethorpe was uncomfortable for Guy and Fàelàn, although Fàelàn was more used to hiding his feelings than the younger man. Adelaide rode her chestnut, pointing out familiar landmarks as they passed them, and trying to bring both men out of their silence.

"So, your daughter denied Guy's marriage suit?" Adelaide asked at one point when the silence had become unbearable.

"She did," Fàelàn answered calmly, despite Guy's stunned outburst.

"She was a fool." Adelaide sniffed haughtily, ignoring her husband's shock.

"Aye, that may be so, but if she was not such a fool, who would the prince have married you off to, eh? Some toothless old lord whose wife has been long dead? It seems to me you are happy in this match with Lord Gisbourne." Fàelàn never took his eyes off the road in front of him, so he did not see the grin begin forming on Adelaide's and then Guy's faces as they locked gazes. Suddenly, they laughed at the foolishness of the situation.

"Deirdre always spoke highly of her father's intelligence. It seems she was right in that," Guy spoke, grinning wryly.

Fàelàn reached across his saddle to Addy and then to Guy.

"Truce?" he offered to each of them.

"Truce," they responded.

The rest of the trip was made in an uneasy friendship, but by the time they came to the castle of Mablethorpe, collected the taxes and returned to London, Prince John was most displeased to find them getting along like old friends. He was hoping to get some entertainment value from the message he had received from Ruarc O'Brian, an Irish dog who had some news concerning O'Niall's wayward daughter and her thieving husband.

* * *

Ruarc looked up in surprise at the approach of his men, whose group seemed to be large by half a dozen too many. He and Deirdre had taken up residence in an inn just outside of London to await the arrival of her husband. Quick as a flash, Allan slid from the horse he was riding and was on Ruarc with his sword drawn.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you _this_ time, O'Brian!" he snarled in rage.

Ruarc gently pushed the blade of his throwing knife against Allan's shirt, just to let him know it was there.

"Because it wouldn't do to make Deirdre a widow so young," he replied calmly, even as the others of both groups dismounted edgily, hands to sword pommels.

"Allan!" Deirdre called from across the room, launching herself into his arms, effectively breaking the two men apart and showering her husband with kisses. Some of the inn's patrons looked on in amusement, some in shock—they had thought the taller dark man was the short blonde woman's husband.

Allan couldn't help himself—despite his rage at Ruarc, he was holding Deirdre in his arms once more. His body responded—his arms going around her waist, his mouth claiming hers as he crushed her body to his. When their mouths separated, he whispered to her, "Jazus, Luv. Are ye all right? Did 'e touch ye? Where's Tom?"

Deirdre nodded vigorously. "He's safe and I'm all right. Come on, we've catching up to do."

She took his hand and led him toward the horses.

"We'll be back by morning," she challenged Ruarc, who swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes against the pain of once more watching her go off with another man.

"You lot behave," she added, catching each person's gaze, including Ruarc's men, once she was mounted. Allan had also mounted and now they turned their horses' heads to the west to find a place where they could "catch up."

* * *

It was midday, and the little copse not only afforded the couple some measure of privacy, but also was a relief from the heat; it was an unusually warm day for Spring, so being naked was not uncomfortable. Allan held Deirdre to him, content for now to just hold her; their lovemaking had been passionate, bordering on violent as Allan's anger at Ruarc gave itself some release, along with Deirdre's desperation that Allan agree to the plan Ruarc had in mind. Deirdre hadn't minded living in the forest when it had just been the two of them with Robin Hood's gang, but with the addition of a baby, things had gotten more difficult and certainly more dangerous. She screwed up her courage and spoke, her finger idly tracing patterns on Allan's bare chest.

"I know you're angry with Ruarc…"

"Do you know I'm gonna kill 'im when we get back?"

"Allan, he made a mistake. His intentions were good, but he remembers how stubborn I am and thought this was the only way; he knew you'd follow. He made his trail easy so you would catch us up."

"Deirdre, I don't know why he done that unless he was feelin' suicidal. You're right, he did make a mistake. A big one. You know I'm easy goin' normally, Deirdre, but I can't have some man comin' along and stealin' my wife and child. He stepped over the line."

Deirdre decided to plunge ahead and reveal the plan—Allan would take it better coming from her, and they might stand a chance that he would agree.

"Allan, I want a better life for us. It'll be dangerous, but Ruarc can give us that."

Allan felt like someone had twisted a knife in his gut. They had just made love and she was giving him the boot? He was silent for so long that Deirdre thought perhaps he hadn't heard her.

"Allan?"

"So what was this?" Allan gestured to their entwined bodies. "Good-bye?"

"What?" Deirdre rose on her elbow to look into his troubled blue eyes.

"Look, if you really want Ruarc that bad, that's a terrible shame, because I'll kill 'im before I let 'im have you and Tom." He raised a hand to silence her protest. "I know, 'e can give you a better life, a safer one, but these last few days've been awful, Deirdre. I've missed you like mad an' been worried about you every day and every night. I couldn't sleep without you."

"Are you done?" Deirdre raised an ironic eyebrow at him.

"Maybe," Allan responded sullenly.

"So what if I told you I was going back to him right now? What would you do?" she challenged.

"I'd…I dunno. I guess I'd drag you back to camp anyway."

"What if I fought you because I love him so much?"  
Allan's face twitched, his nose pinched in anger.

"I'd take you anyway, make you see sense."

"And what of Tom?"  
"Well, o' course he'd 'ave to come with, wouldn't 'e? He's our baby."

"So, you're saying you'd kidnap me to keep me safe?"

"Well, yeah. I told you, I love you; I'd do anythin' to keep you safe."

"Even if it pissed off Ruarc?"

"_Especially_ if it pissed off Ruarc."

Deirdre sat up and looked at him.

"Allan."

"What?" he asked grumpily.

"You may have more in common with Ruarc than you want to admit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded belligerently.

Deirdre held up her fingers, checking off the points as she made them.

"One, Ruarc claims he loves me."

Allan glared at her.

"Two, he wants to keep me safe. Three, he had to take me against my will because I love you and don't want to leave you. Four…"

"You don't?"

"What?" It was Deirdre's turn to be confused.

"You don't want to leave me?"

"Are you that stupid? Ruarc had to drug me and tie me up to take me from you. I've fought and killed men to be with you. I've lived in a forest, hunted like an animal for you. I've given birth to your child, for goodness sake! And I'm about to convince you to take a huge risk so that we can live a long, happy life together because I love you, you stupid, stupid man! I cannot believe how thick you can be sometimes!"

Allan grinned at her anger, some of his old humor returning at her list of "loving" things she had done for him.

"So are you sayin' you love me?"

Deirdre let out a groan of frustration, shoving at Allan's chest.

"What else do I need to do to prove it to you?"

"Well, for starters…" Allan grinned cheekily and pulled her on top of him, settling her on his thick erection, making her gasp as he pushed her open once more.

"That's definitely a good start," Deirdre moaned as his big hands wrapped around her waist, helping her find the rhythm.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked. Very soon, we will find out what Ruarc has been up to (the _whole_ plan) and some of you who have been sitting on the fence about him may suddenly make your decision about him. Or not--he tends to keep even me off balance. ;) Those who have been wanting some Robin/Marian, be patient--it's coming; my first "M" rated R/M is with my beta, but it is written & will be here in a few chaps. As always, your reviews are appreciated!**


	51. Chapter 51: Crime and Punishment

Chapter Fifty-one: Crime and Punishment

"So, what then, Deirdre? He's gonna pay the price on our 'eads and bring us back to Ireland to do what? Be 'is serfs? I'd rather die."

"Would you rather have me and Tom die? How about any other children we might have? You know the sheriff and Gisbourne have an ax to grind with me—if they catch me, it won't be a quick, easy death, that's for certain."

Deirdre was doing her best to remain calm and convince Allan of the ingeniousness of Ruarc's plan. It was full dark now, and they sat before a fire as they talked, Deirdre cooking a rabbit Allan had caught and skinned. She had already told him of the midwife Tom was staying with; the woman was a healer as well, and a distant cousin to Madeleine. Tom would stay with her when they went into London tomorrow.

"I dunno. I mean, I know the sheriff and Giz want you dead in an un-pretty way, but then, it was the prince what put the price on yer head and made yer da disown you."

"And it's the prince who needs money, and loyal servants."

Allan shook his head. "I can't let you do it, you know."

"Neither can you stop me."

"Don't tempt me, Deirdre. I _will_ tie you up."

"I'm going into London tomorrow with or without you. I want us to be safe, not looking over our shoulders all the time. Don't you want to sleep in a real bed again?"

"Deirdre, I can't betray Robin again. He saved me, after I had betrayed 'im before."

"I am the one who killed your torturer. I am also the one who convinced them to go save you. They were going to leave you, did you know that?"

Allan looked surprised. "No, they never…"

Deirdre was good and mad, remembering how she had had to convince Robin Hood to save one of his men, albeit one who had betrayed them, from torture and death.

"They said you probably had it coming. If I had not lied to Robin about being pregnant, you would be dead and I would be sharing Gisbourne's bed, bearing his children, and probably getting beaten every night for mourning you. I love you, Allan, and I don't want to leave you, but I will do whatever is necessary to give our son a better life."

Allan was discommoded, angry at Deirdre's revelation, but at the same time still feeling the loyalty of his friendship with Robin. Robin had saved his hand, and his life—twice. Robin was a decent sort. _But wouldn't a decent sort understand a man wanting to give his wife and son a chance to live?_ A little voice worried at the wall of his loyalty. He did not want to betray Robin again, but neither did he want to pay for that loyalty with the blood of his wife, his children. Deirdre was right--they deserved a better life. Robin had gotten into outlawry to help the poor; Allan had done so out of necessity, staying with Robin afterwards because there was safety in numbers. He had never meant to stay for more than a few days, but then the adventure of it all had beckoned to him, and here he was, years later, having difficulty making a choice that would have given him no problem at the outset. _Of course, _he thought ironically_, I would never have had a wife and child back then, either._

He sighed, once more annoyed that he was giving in to Deirdre, but once more unable to stop himself.

"All right, I'll listen to what O'Brian 'as to say. _If _we do this, we stick together, you and me, and Tom stays safe outside the city."

"Thank you, Allan. You won't be sorry, I swear."

"Somehow I doubt that," he growled at her before she began kissing his frown away.

* * *

The next morning, Allan and Deirdre rode back to the inn to discuss terms with Ruarc. Since the subject matter was so sensitive, they had decided to gather at a tree around the rear of the inn that was set back and away from both the main building and the stable. Ruarc's eyes were sad, but his face and his voice betrayed nothing as he watched Deirdre and Allan sitting together; they had stopped to get Tom so that Deirdre could nurse him before they went into the city. Ruarc kept his gaze carefully on the couple's faces after Allan had caught him staring at the nursing infant and shot him a glare that would've frozen a blacksmith's forge. Ruarc had grinned sheepishly at Allan and raised his eyebrows in a self-deprecating manner before clearing his throat and speaking.

"We're going into the city today," he began, only to get cut off by cries of "We are never!" and "What?" from the gang.

He waited for the hubbub to die down before continuing.

"Robin, I do not expect you or your gang to go."

"Well, that's a relief," Robin interrupted, his stance visibly relaxing.

"But my men and I are accompanying Deirdre and Allan."

Ruarc stopped as more clamor erupted.

Deirdre looked to Allan, who stood, his back scraping the bark as he rose. He looked nervously from his wife and child to Robin and the gang before he spoke into the silence his movement had generated.

"Deirdre and I agreed to this. We're going into London with Ruarc and his men. He's going to ask the prince to pardon us."

"You know the prince won't pardon us, Allan!" Robin nearly shouted, catching himself at the last moment. Their arguing had already attracted unwanted attention—no sense adding to it with such a volatile statement.

Allan swallowed, looking miserable and desperate, praying that Robin would understand.

"No, 'e won't pardon _all_ of us," he nearly whispered, staring at his feet.

Robin's face turned to stone; the others looked on in varying states of disbelief and incomprehension.

"So you would betray us again after we took you back. You would turn your back on your friends." Robin's voice was low, carefully controlled, and obviously angry.

"I ain't gonna betray you, Robin. You gotta believe me."

"I don't have to do anything," Robin replied.

"No, you don't. Marian ain't given you a babe yet. Maybe if she does, you'll feel different." At Marian's black glare, Allan had the decency to look chagrined. "Look, I don't want to stick around long enough for Deirdre and Tom to get caught, for the sheriff to use them to force me to betray you again; I love them enough that I just might, to try to save them. I love all of you too much for _that_."

"And if the prince asks you to give us up as a price for your pardon?"

"I'll tell 'im only Deirdre and I came with Ruarc, and that you lot will've moved on by now, since you figured we was comin' 'ere. If 'e insists, I'll give 'im one of the old camp sites as a location."

"What if he orders you killed, Allan?"

Allan looked miserably at his wife, holding their sleeping baby.

"Deirdre and me, we talked about it. Tom'll be stayin' 'ere, with the midwife. If the prince has us killed, you need to get 'im to Deirdre's da."

"Allan, will you listen to yourself? In order to make a better life for yourselves, you'll risk the life of yourself and your wife? That doesn't even make sense! And if he pardons you, where will you live?"

Ruarc spoke quietly. "They'll come with me to Ireland."

"Ireland? But that's full of…Irishmen," Much finished lamely, earning frowns from Deirdre, Ruarc, and Ruarc's men, who were on the fringes of the group.

Allan began to laugh, looking from Much to the ground and shaking his head.

"I'm gonna miss you, Much," he declared, cheeky grin firmly in place.

Robin began to laugh at Much's slip as well, and the tension eased a bit.

"Why would you take them into your home, Ruarc? And why would the prince listen to _you_?" Robin asked after a moment, sobering.

"The prince'll listen to me because he is the ruler of all Ireland, and I am an Irish lord who has sworn fealty to him through my loyalty to the Irish king. If I go against Prince John, I go against my king, and I am dishonored; my land, that has been in my family since Irishmen have been in Ireland," here he looked at Much, "would be forfeit, as would my life and the lives of any I hold dear. And I would bring her into my home because many years ago, I promised my master that I would protect his wild, blue-eyed girl. From what I can see, she needs it now more than ever."

"And you have no designs on her?" Robin continued, wondering why Allan would so suddenly trust the big Irishman with their lives, particularly if Ruarc wanted Deirdre for his own.

"Well, o'course I've designs on her! I'm a man, am I not? I'm breathing still. But I'll not see her unhappy or harmed. She has convinced me that Allan is her man, and so he'll be my brother, if he'll have me as such."

Ruarc held out his hand to Allan, who looked at him askance for a moment before taking the proffered limb and clasping it in his own.

"I don't know about brother, mate; I've seen how you treat your siblings and I don't want no part o' _that_."

For a moment, Ruarc and Allan grinned at each other before Ruarc pulled Allan to him and gave him a bear hug. Deirdre's smile lit her face as tears rolled down her cheeks, ecstatic to see the two men she loved most besides her father seemingly at peace with one another for once; she was pretty sure it wouldn't last, but for now, it was enough.

"So what's the plan, exactly?" Robin inquired, breaking the mood.

"My men and I bring in Deirdre and Allan before the prince; they must be in chains and behave like prisoners." The others looked askance at Ruarc, but he continued on, ignoring their looks of surprise, anger, and outright hostility. As he continued, the reactions remained mostly the same.

"And you're happy with this?" Robin asked Deirdre and Allan.

"I wouldn't say 'appy, but it's the best shot we got. The sheriff's not there, Gisbourne'll be in 'is new place now—without those two, we stand a chance of convincing the prince that we're sorry, that it'll not 'appen again."  
Robin nodded and sighed. "Let's do this, then."

* * *

It was mid-morning when Deirdre and Allan, properly chained and appearing to be mentally beaten, were led into town by Ruarc and his men. Robin had insisted on bringing along his gang and hiding them out amongst the townspeople and servants of the castle as the prince admitted Ruarc and his party to the Great Hall.

Ruarc's eyes had scanned the Hall upon his entry, pausing just inside the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness from the bright sunlight of the outdoors; he knew his men had done the same—checking for exits, how many soldiers, how many civilians who might block their escape. As his gaze came to rest upon the man on the dais, taking in the advisors around him as well, Ruarc cursed silently. Deirdre's father was there, on the prince's right hand; he could be a problem if his protectiveness won out over his savvy. What really had Ruarc wondering which one of the Fair Folk had heard their plan and hated him enough to destroy them was the presence of the knight he had seen at the blacksmith's shop in Nottingham—Sir Guy of Gisbourne, with a pretty brown-haired woman by his side. He prayed quickly and silently for God's help in getting them out of this alive. The party came to a stop before the dais and all bowed low; Deirdre curtseyed.

Prince John eyed the group for a moment in satisfaction; the leader, O'Brian, had indeed brought him entertainment in the form of a woman who meant something to the men on either side of him; one would kill _for_ her, the other might just kill her—it really didn't matter to the prince which was which right now. Nearly clapping his hands with glee, the prince leaned forward in his throne.

"Well, well, well, O'Brian, you _have_ brought me something of value." The prince gestured to O'Niall. "See to it the man is paid. What was the price on the head of these outlaws?"

"Thirty pounds, Your Highness," Fàelàn replied, tight-lipped.

"So pay the man sixty pounds—make it seventy; I'm feeling suddenly generous." The prince smiled as Fàelàn moved away uncomfortably to carry out his orders. Casting a glance to his left, he noted Gisbourne's pinched nostrils and flushed cheeks—evidence of his anger and embarrassment. O'Brian spoke then, surprising the prince, and adding to his entertainment.

"Your Highness, I would ask you to grant me a boon."

Prince John raised eloquent chestnut eyebrows. Fàelàn stopped in his tracks.

"A boon? What sort of boon?"

"I would ask that you allow me to pay the price on their heads and bring the A' Dales back with me to Ireland."

"Why should I let you wander off with these two instead of hanging them as they so richly deserve?"

"Your Highness, Deirdre A' Dale is the daughter of the man who sits beside you now, the same man who fostered me. There is a geis upon me to see to her safety and that of any she holds dear. I must lay down my own life before I let theirs be endangered."

The prince frowned and bent his ear to the lips of Fàelàn O'Niall, who explained about the geis; he then looked back at O'Brian.

"So why would you bring them to me in the first place?" Prince John asked suspiciously.

Ruarc put on a mask of surprise. "Because you are my ruler and I owe you loyalty. You wanted them caught and so it was my duty…"

"What of the others? Robin Hood, eh?"

Ruarc hung his head in seeming shame.

"I am afraid they eluded us, Your Highness."

Prince John frowned.

"So you would really sacrifice yourself for these vermin?"

"I must, Your Highness. My Lord Fàelàn has so commanded."

"And what of me, your prince, High Lord of all Ireland?"

"It is out of my loyalty and respect for you, Your Majesty, that I bring the prisoners here to you, begging you to let them live."

Ruarc had decided to gamble and address the prince by the more kingly title. As the prince considered, Guy shifted uncomfortably in the chair to his left.

"What say you, Sir Guy? You were one of the victims of this couple's effrontery."

Adelaide laid her hand on Guy's—they had spoken a lot of forgiveness lately, deciding that a fresh start was best for them both. On the floor of the Hall, Deirdre and Allan continued looking at the ground. Ruarc put his silver tongue to effect.

"They will suffer more on my lands, working for me day and night, than they would by a quick death. And I will foster their children, bring them up to respect their betters."

"And working them so hard will not break this…geis?" Guy put in, beginning to understand that O'Brian would not really work them as hard as he claimed.

"The geis is that I must protect them; there is no harm in earning one's keep."

Guy smiled, that smile that usually meant he was up to no good, the little half smile that made women melt and men get nervous. Deirdre and Allan would be punished, and he would never have to see them again.

"The punishment sounds fair to me, Your Highness. Let O'Brian deal with them. In Ireland."

The prince looked surprised. He wanted the A' Dales punished, but more so, he needed money to pay off his debts, and when he decided to overthrow his brother, he would also need loyal servants. He decided to bind them to him.

"Triple the price on their heads, and the price on their heads in addition to your taxes once every year until their deaths. They must swear fealty to me."

Ruarc nodded and had just begun to relax when the prince added, "Oh, and thirty lashes apiece for irritating their prince—one for each pound of the price on their heads."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all who continue to read and to review, despite the number of chaps this monster is turning into! For those waiting for R/M--soon, I swear it. I appreciate all your support while I've been writing in NaNoWriMo; my current word count is over 27,000 for those of you who wish to know, with excerpts being posted on Live Journal (whytewytch4). Currently, the novel is more erotica than a well thought out story, but I hope to clean it up after the month is over, and at that time, may be posting it on fiction press (fan fic dot net's original story twin).**


	52. Chapter 52: The Price of Loyalty

Chapter Fifty-two: the Price of Loyalty

Ruarc and Fàelàn both cried out in horror. "My Lord, please, no!"

Deirdre and Allan looked up quickly at the prince before exchanging a wide-eyed glance; they had never expected _this_.

Ruarc spoke quickly, trying to dissuade the prince.

"My Lord, how can I possibly get work out of injured servants?"

"That's your problem."

"But My Lord…" Ruarc thought hard. Deirdre would be angry, but Allan would thank him. He said what he had to to save one of them.

"Deirdre A' Dale is breeding, My Lord. Thirty lashes will kill the child she carries and if I allow that, the geis is broken and I am dishonored. There would be no sense in my paying the price on their heads at that point."

The prince rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

"Then you shall take Deirdre A' Dale's punishment for her. Am I not merciful?" he put forth, preening proudly before the crowd. Shouts of "Yes, Your Highness!" were heard, most notably from those standing closest to the dais or to guards. As the guards moved forward to grab the men and steer them toward the door, Allan saw the panic in Deirdre's eyes.

"Leave be, luv. We're getting' away with our lives, and our hands intact. We'll get a chance at a life now, and give Tom a better chance, too. O'Brian and me'll heal," Allan whispered to her. "Mind, I'll need extra attention from my wife to make me feel better," he added with a brave wink as the guards took hold of him and hustled him out the door.

Once in the courtyard, the prince's soldiers made quick work of tying both Allan and Ruarc to posts; the men who would carry out the sentence seemed to materialize from nowhere. Allan looked for Robin, saw his grim countenance peering out from under a vegetable-seller's stall. Allan shook his head, denying the rescue he knew Robin would be compelled to launch. Ruarc's men were moving among the crowd, seeking out other members of the gang, telling them the terms had been accepted, the whipping was just the prince asserting his authority over the matter, and a rescue now would only endanger them all. One by one, the gang looked to Robin, who shook his head, letting them know the rescue was off.

The prince sat on a dais which had been erected permanently for him to view public events and called to the men who would be doing the whipping. Fàelàn O'Niall sat once more to his right, with Guy and Adelaide on his left. Prince John gave the men their instructions; they would be using an ordinary whip, not a flail or a cat o'nine tails. The prince wished to assert his authority, not cause permanent damage. The men stepped away from the dais and moved to Allan and Ruarc, ripping their shirts from their backs to add to the drama. Out of the corner of his eye, Prince John watched the men on his sides, noting their tense postures.

Next to Guy, Adelaide was clutching his hand, her face a mask of horror as memories assailed her. Lord Henry had liked to whip her, sometimes even beating her bare back while he was yet inside her. The scene before them was too much for her and she gave a little mewl of protest, leaning forward to try to quell a bout of nausea that suddenly overtook her.

Guy looked over quickly at her, leaning over her protectively.

"Adelaide, what is it? Are you all right?"

She shook her head, looking up at him pleadingly, begging him to understand. "Please, Guy. I simply cannot bear…" She nodded her head meaningfully at the two men who were tied to the poles, their backs bare and vulnerable. "Please, stop this."

Guy turned to the prince.

"Your Highness, you said earlier that I should decide the punishment of the A' Dales. I believe that paying Your Highness sixty crowns extra every year, swearing fealty to you, and being made to leave the country and work as serfs on that man's land, are punishment enough."

Frowning, Guy looked back at Adelaide, who nodded to him. Guy nearly rolled his eyes, unable to believe that he was actually trying to convince the prince to _not _whip Allan; being gentle for Addy was going to be harder than he thought.

"Do you wish to join them, Sir Guy?" the prince asked dangerously.

"No Sire," Guy had noted Ruarc's "slip" in using the more kingly address and decided to employ it himself. "I just believe that they will love you that much more if you decide that they have paid the price of their unlawfulness before they are physically injured. It would be most…merciful of you." Guy nearly choked on the word "merciful", his temper increasing as he tried to remain calm and act mercifully himself; the sight of Allan and Deirdre together was making Guy's more violent side quake with the need to punish them. The touch of Adelaide's hand on his cooled his temper, as he closed his eyes and let her gentleness waft over him.

Prince John stroked his beard, his lips pursed in thought as the whips cracked the air below them. Rising almost apathetically from his throne, the prince caught the attention of the gathered crowd.

"Good people of London! My brother, King Richard, fights a war in a far away land, asking you to sacrifice yourselves, your sons, your fathers and uncles and grandsons in his name. He leaves me here to watch over you who are left behind. There is enough good English blood being spilled in the name of my brother; I shall not see more of it spilled here today over a trifle." Fàelàn did not fail to notice the prince using the more personal "me" instead of the royal "we", thereby making himself seem more approachable.

He turned to the guards who were holding back the crowd from the center.

"Release the prisoners!"

Everyone stared, shocked, as the guards began untying Allan and Ruarc; Guy and Adelaide exchanged a smile—Guy's rueful, Adelaide's warm—as the two men were hustled before the prince. Prince John looked down at the men, and at Deirdre, who had also been brought forward.

"You will remember this day the next time you decide to go against your sovereign. You will remember how close you came to punishment and pain, and how you were saved by our mercy. Remember that it is at our whim that you live or die. You will kneel, and swear fealty to me now."

The prince declared that Ruarc must to make a renewal of his vows, and that the A' Dales must swear to his royal personage as well as to Ruarc, thereby doubly binding them. Deirdre and Allan spoke the words, knowing they had no choice but still feeling the accusing eyes of Robin and the others in the crowd. Deirdre and Allan spoke the words, knowing they had no choice but still feeling the accusing eyes of Robin and the others in the crowd. The prince sat in his chair, slumped down, thumb on his chin, pointer finger against his temple and middle finger under his nose, eyes glazing over, as the priest droned the ritual words and the five people each repeated them in turn. Every so often, something would catch his eye—a scrap of cloth snapping in the breeze, the movement of a bored child, a bitch being mounted by a dog—and then his gaze would shift rapidly to the new entertainment before returning dully to the ritual before him. When the ceremony was over, he rose and stretched, yawning widely.

"See to it, Fàelàn, that the proper papers are written up and delivered to them before they leave, yes?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Right away, Sir."

"You will leave with your new master once the papers are in his hands," the prince commanded of Allan and Deirdre.

With that, Prince John turned and moved indoors, grabbing one of his kitchen wenches and steering her toward his chambers. "You had better be entertaining," he whispered to her dangerously as they moved up the stairs.

* * *

Allan looked incredulously from Ruarc to Deirdre.

"Is that it then? We're really free?'

"Well, you're not really _free_, you're my serfs," Ruarc replied teasingly.

Allan frowned at him; Deirdre was too busy smiling at her father as she walked toward the dais to notice the men's exchange.

Fàelàn jumped down to wrap Deirdre in a hug—a hug he hadn't been able to give her since before her second wedding to Allan, nearly a year before. By the time they separated from the embrace, Guy and Adelaide had disappeared; Deirdre frowned—she had hoped to thank Guy for his unexpected generosity. Now she would have to track him down, but first, she had to answer the questions her father was shooting at her like a quiver-full of Robin's arrows. She held up her hand to stop the assault so she could begin answering.

"The baby is fine. His name is Tom. You can tell Mam she was right about him being a boy. Allan and I are fine, especially now. We found Ruarc in the forest one day…"

"...and were bent on robbing me until I charmed 'em out of it," the big warrior cut in, striding up to where Deirdre and Fàelàn stood. He smiled warmly and took the hand his former lord held out, but the smile never reached his eyes; he still wondered why the O'Niall* had denied his own suit only to allow Deirdre marry Allan.

Fàelàn pulled Ruarc to him, embracing him warmly for a minute; when they pulled apart, Fàelàn's eyes were wet.

"Ruarc O'Brian, as I live and breathe. I never thought to see you again once we left Ireland, yet here you are, saving my Deirdre's life. I owe you a great debt, my friend."

Ruarc framed his answer carefully. "I have always cared very deeply for Deirdre. It is for her that I do this."

Fàelàn frowned, and tension began to fill the air once more before Deirdre took her father's arm and steered him toward the castle. "I am quite hungry, Da. Can you show me to the kitchens?"

Allan had wandered up during Fàelàn and Ruarc's exchange; he shot Ruarc a confused look before hurrying to catch up to his wife and father in-law.

* * *

Inside the cold, drafty castle, the kitchen was a warm oasis that smelled of baking bread and cooking meat. Deirdre inhaled the familiar scents as her father motioned one of the servants to get them some food. The kitchen staff gawked as the trio sat at one of the sturdy work tables rather than re-entering the hall to eat.

"How's Mam?" Deirdre asked around a mouthful of bread.

"She is well, but she misses you, and is wanting to see the babe desperately."

"I'll ask Ruarc if we can't stop at Dun Aisling on our way to Ireland. It would be wonderful to see the family again, and give everyone a chance to meet my Allan."

Deirdre smiled warmly at Allan and took his hand; he smiled back, feeling more than a bit self-conscious as his body reacted to her touch . He shook away the mental image of throwing her over the table and having his way with her, concentrating on the fact that they were in a roomful of people, her _father_ being foremost among them. He watched her smile turn into an impish grin as she noted his condition and he silently cursed her as she leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek, laying her head on his shoulder. Fàelàn soon rose from the table.

"I must be off to see that the scribe gets your pardon written correctly. You will stay the night in my London home, and be off first thing in the morning." Fàelàn paused in the doorway. "Stay out of trouble, eh?"

Allan snorted as Deirdre blinked ingenuously at her father. "Of course, Athair."

O'Niall frowned at her, striding back to the table to lean in close to his daughter's ear.

"You're on a dangerous cliff, Muirnín. Careful where you tread. Just behave until you're safe in Ireland, at least." Fàelàn played a card he hoped would help. "For Tom."

O'Niall watched in satisfaction as Deirdre frowned, glaring at him. "That was a nasty trick, Da."

"Oh, so I'm "Da" now instead of "Father" am I, Deirdre?"  
"And I'm "Deirdre" now instead of "Sweetheart"?"

Allan cleared his throat, trying to break the tension that was rising between the O'Nialls. With a grin, father and daughter threw their arms around one another.

"I'll stay safe, I promise, Athair," Deirdre whispered into her father's ear.

"It's good to have you back, Muirnín," he responded, his voice muffled by her hair. He gave her one final squeeze and turned to leave the room, his eyes shiny and wet.

Allan grinned at his wife. "Well, let's go get us some rope and a gag, eh?"

"What for?" Deirdre raised an eyebrow at her husband.

"You promised to stay out of trouble, so I thought we ought to tie you and gag you to 'elp you keep that promise."

Deirdre nuzzled Allan's ear, tightening his groin even more as she whispered to him, "I never knew your tastes ran that way, Mo Croi." Allan began to sweat as her tongue reached out to flick his ear and she suckled on the lobe before kissing his neck. He heard snickering behind him and got up quickly, grabbing Deirdre and placing her in front of him to hide his obvious arousal.

"We're, ah, we're gonna go now. Thanks for the food," he said to the portly old cook and her helpers, who were desperately trying to hold in their laughter.

* * *

Allan had steered Deirdre quickly out of the kitchen and through the corridors of the castle, looking for a private spot. On the second floor, he found an unoccupied room down a quiet corridor, and pushed Deirdre through the entryway. Closing the massive oak door as quickly as he could, he pressed his wife against the wall, hitching up her skirts. His kisses were almost violent in their intensity as he pushed a finger into her soft core; he was rewarded by her cry of pleasure as he delved into her before adding another finger. With his other hand, he opened his trousers, allowing his erection to come free of the cloth. He opened her with his fingers while he pressed against her, pushing into her on a groan of sheer bliss.

The blood was pumping through both of their bodies furiously now, as the high of surviving danger filled them. As Allan entered her, Deirdre's body opened for him, wet and ready; she hitched first one leg and then the other around his waist as he grabbed her bottom, holding her against the wall as he thrust hard, burying himself completely inside of her. Deirdre held onto his head and his shoulders for support, urging him on as he began to drive into and out of her quickly; the violence he had escaped translating itself through his body into hers. Deirdre could feel the stone of the wall abrading her back through her clothes, but she didn't care; all she could think of was Allan—how close she might have come to losing him, how close he had come to an agonizing whipping. With that thought—completely unbidden—came a thought of Ruarc, who had stepped forward without hesitation to take her whipping for her; she forced thoughts of Ruarc from her mind as her husband continued to make love to her. It wasn't long before she felt her body lose control, tightening around him as his thrusts became harder and faster; he buried himself in her deeper each time until he cried out his release on top of hers.

Allan collapsed against Deirdre, holding himself up on the wall with his hands. When they had the strength to raise their heads, they exchanged grins of pure delight, before Allan slid bonelessly to the floor and re-closed his trousers with effort.

"Jazus, luv. I didn't sleep a wink last night for worryin'. I could use a kip."

Deirdre yawned.

"Me, too."

What she really wanted to do was to go find Guy and his new wife, and discover why they had helped her and Allan. She knew Allan would never agree, though, and so she lay down beside him, resting her cheek on his chest until she felt his breathing even out.

* * *

**A/N: So Allan & Deirdre have been given amnesty. Now what? As always, I love your comments! **

***The term "the O'Niall" is an Irish expression, particularly from history, which denoted the head of a clan, so Fàelàn is referred to as "the" O'Niall being as he is the head of his family.**


	53. Chapter 53: Unseemly

**A/N: Here's the bath scene (one of them) y'all were waiting for! Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Fifty-three: Unseemly

Ruarc and his men were at the blacksmith's shop, getting their swords repaired and the horses' shoes replaced. The man was skilled, and Ruarc had paid extra in advance to see that they were moved to the front of the line; he expected to be out of London, on the way home to Ireland by first light. He would have left sooner, but the prince had invited Ruarc to dinner that evening, so he wandered off to the castle to find a hot bath, and perhaps a willing maid to take the edge off his tension. The prince's majordomo, who reminded Ruarc of a weasel, accosted him as he re-entered the castle.

"My Lord, the prince has asked me to show you and your men to a room for the evening; you will be his honored guest." The slender man bowed obsequiously, his front teeth extending slightly over his thin lips.

"Thank you. What of the A' Dale couple?"

The man sniffed disdainfully as he arose from his bow and began leading Ruarc up the stairs and down a corridor. "They are to find their own accommodation _outside_ the castle, My Lord. Unless you think they will run? Then, I am sure the prince will allow you the use of his dungeons." The man's voice held ill-disguised glee at the thought of the couple being made to sleep in the dungeon, and Ruarc felt his temper rise.

"They will not run. They will stay with me and my men in our room."

"But surely the woman cannot…oh," the weasel answered, a knowing smile on his lips as he stopped before a door that looked much like any other. "I suppose she will be too tired to run by morning."

Ruarc bit his tongue, reminding himself that it did not matter what others thought; what mattered was leaving here in the morning, and getting Deirdre and Tom to safety. _And Allan_, he added darkly to himself.

Ignoring the man's comment, Ruarc asked for a tub and bathing essentials to be brought to him and stepped into the room to await their arrival.

* * *

Once Allan was snoring softly, Deirdre arose, determined to find Guy and his new wife. She had seen the new Lady Gisbourne's condition and her look at Guy just before Gisbourne had spoken to the prince, stopping the whipping. Deirdre had no idea why Lady Gisbourne had urged Guy to stop, nor why Gisbourne had listened to his wife, and she didn't care; what mattered was thanking them for saving Allan and Ruarc. She stole from the room softly, not wanting to wake Allan up—for one thing, he needed sleep desperately, and for another, she knew he would never allow her to run this errand. Treading silently, she came to a corner and gnawed on her lower lip, unsure which direction to go. She watched some servants walk by, laden with water buckets, soap, brushes and towels; someone was having a bath, and that someone was likely a lady. She took her chances that it might be Lady Gisbourne, and stepped up to the last servant in line, relieving her of her towel and making up a story about her presence being required in the kitchen. The rest of the servants entered a room, leaving soon afterwards; Deirdre leaned against the wall of the corridor, gathering her courage, wondering how Lady Gisbourne would receive her or if she even knew Deirdre's name.

_Maybe I shouldn't do this_, she thought nervously_. Maybe she saved me because my name was unknown to her. Maybe if she knows who I am, how I was once betrothed to Guy, she will have me whipped herself._

The thoughts ran through Deirdre's head like mice scurrying before a cat as the minutes passed. Finally, she looked to the towel in her hand, smiling ruefully at the corner she had backed herself into. If she didn't go in now, Lady Gisbourne would have to air-dry, and the young servant she had taken the towel from would be beaten. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, and bowed her head obsequiously, quietly opening the door and turning to close it; she would be Lady Gisbourne's body servant and perhaps get a chance to talk to her in that way. She heard the sound of cloth hitting the floor, and kept her eyes downcast until she heard her name spoken incredulously.

"Deirdre?"

Ruarc's eyes were huge as he stared at her; Deirdre looked up quickly, noting his eyes were not the only things that were huge, and obviously reacting to her presence. She flushed in embarrassment, turning away from Ruarc's naked body, so she didn't notice the look of shock turn to one of playfulness.

"Now, lass. There's no need to go quite so far to express your gratitude to me…unless of course, you want to."

"Jazus, Ruarc. I thought you were Lady Gisbourne!" Deirdre whispered vehemently.

Ruarc looked down at his manhood in trepidation, one eyebrow cocked.

"I'm thinking that's the first time a woman's ever seen me naked and called me a female. Allan must be part horse, to bring such a reaction to my…"

"Shut up, Ruarc! That's none of your business!" Deirdre shot over her shoulder, still whispering loudly.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because…" Deirdre was still clutching the towel when the door opened once more, and in strode the prince's majordomo. The flunky, secure in his position, didn't bother looking at the "servant" and so didn't recognize Deirdre at first as he looked to Ruarc, careful to only look into the Irish lord's eyes.

"Do you have everything you need, My Lord?"

Ruarc grinned, nearly bursting with laughter. "I believe I do. Thank you."

The majordomo turned to give orders to the servant and found himself staring at the face of the woman from the courtyard earlier. He leered at her as he caught the musty scent of sex coming from her body.

"Be sure you clean him _thoroughly_," he commanded before leaving the two alone.

As the door closed, Ruarc picked up a scrub-brush and handed it to Deirdre over her shoulder; her nearness had the smell of her earlier activities with her husband washing over Ruarc and his body reacted once more, his cock hardening and his balls tightening as he fought to keep his breathing even. "You heard the man. Clean me thoroughly."

Deirdre grabbed the brush and turned, temper in full swing due to her acute embarrassment. Ruarc had not stepped back and so their bodies brushed as she turned, causing him to groan as her elbow inadvertently swept across the head of his straining member. He shuddered and closed his eyes, nearly cumming already from the accidental touch.

Deirdre growled low in her throat and shoved him away from her. "Tub!" she ordered, and as he turned partially to walk stiff-legged to the tub in an odd, almost-sideways manner, she took aim and the brush hit him on his flank. He yelped and Deirdre sniffed haughtily before striding to the door and wrenching it open, determined to make her escape. Outside, the majordomo stood, talking to two guards. He looked up in surprise as Deirdre tried to push past him.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

"Away!"

The majordomo was proud of his station; without Prince John, he would be nothing and he knew it. The small amount of power he wielded, he wielded like a club, enjoying it while it lasted.

"I don't think so. I gave you an order."

"Ruar…Lord O'Brian released me," she lied.

"An order from me is an order from the prince. Now, go do as your prince commands and prepare your new lord and master for his dinner with his sovereign!"

Deirdre's eyes flared—a year ago, this man would have never dared to speak to her in such a way, but now the tables had turned and she had no choice; nostrils pinched in suppressed rage, she backed into the room and slammed the door. She could hear the sound of the water splashing behind her as she turned and stomped over to the tub. Ruarc eyed her approach warily.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked nervously, noting the way her body was vibrating.

"What I've been _ordered_ to," she growled. "Give me the brush."

"I don't think so, lass. I've plans later that involve a willing woman or two…_not_ you, of course," he emphasized quickly at her black look. "But I will need to be a _whole_ man, if you know what I mean."

"Hand me the brush, O'Brian, or I'm going in after it," Deirdre threatened.

While a part of Ruarc thought it might be great fun to have Deirdre play "find the brush" since both the brush and his bits were under the water, another part was extremely fond of those bits, and so, with trepidation tinged with resignation, he pulled the brush from the water and handed it to her. She held out her other hand for the soap and set to work on a task she had never once been asked to do in her life—wash another human being. Mind, she had washed Allan once or twice at their stream, but that had usually turned into something that required bathing once more afterwards. She had no intention of letting Ruarc think this could turn into anything other than what it was—a servant bathing her master.

A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she smelled the soap—lavendar; Ruarc would sure be smelling pretty when she was done with him. Deirdre took the soap and rubbed it along the hard bristles of the brush, noting with satisfaction the tenseness in Ruarc's shoulders, and the fact that his erection no longer bobbed close to the surface of the water; in fact, his manhood had softened, and seemed to hiding from her wrath.

"Down!" she ordered gruffly, putting down the soap and pushing on his shoulder to get him to duck under the water. Another mischievous smile touched her lips as she watched him take a deep breath first, possibly fearing that she would not let him back up for air anytime soon. She kept her hand on his shoulder, exerting light pressure to let him know that the thought had crossed her mind as well.

As he came back up, Deirdre sucked in a breath, noting the lines that criss-crossed his back. She had not seen those lines before; it almost as if he had been careful to conceal them in the moments she might have noticed them. The scars were old, but there, nonetheless. Ruarc had been whipped before. She had thought, when he had walked nearly sideways to the tub, that he had been trying to show off his manhood; it seemed he had been trying to hide his back instead. All the anger went out of her as she thought of how much braver it had been for him to step forward and agree to take her punishment, since he knew what a whipping felt like. Gently, she traced one of the scars with her finger-tip, feeling Ruarc shudder beneath her touch. He reached up and grabbed her hand, leaning his head back to look into her troubled eyes.

"Don't, lass. It was long ago."

"Did my father…" The thought had come unbidden and unwelcome to her mind, that her father may have punished Ruarc for some reason, despite the fact that she had never seen or heard of her father having anyone whipped.

"No." Ruarc's answer was curt. "Give me the soap, lass, and the brush."

"No." Deirdre suddenly felt the need to repent to Ruarc, to make up for all the pain she and her father had caused him. "I want to wash you, Ruarc."

He looked into her pain-filled eyes and kept his playful comments to himself as she put down the brush and wet her hands, grabbing the soap and rubbing his hair with it before massaging it into his scalp. He leaned back, nearly falling asleep as he gave himself over to the pleasure of her fingertips working their way through his hair, cleaning it thoroughly. She pushed him gently back under the water to rinse the soap out before putting pressure on his shoulder blades to lean him forward so that she could wash his back. Instead of reaching for the hard-bristled brush, she made a lather of the soap in her hands, rubbing his back to clean it. He felt himself hardening once more at the touch of her hands, and then she was rinsing his back and lathering her hands to wash his chest. As her hands began to travel from his chest to his belly, he grabbed her wrists, afraid that he wouldn't be able to control himself if she gave the same attention to his manhood as she had given to his head and back; he loved her, he had no desire to rape her or to take advantage of her feelings of remorse. When and if she ever came to him, he wanted her there because she wanted to be, not because she felt she owed him something. He stared into her eyes.

"I'll finish, lass. Please. Just turn around, eh?"

He knew that she would not be allowed to leave until he was done with his bath and dressed, and cursed the power-hungry little wretch that oversaw things for the prince here at his London estate. He tried desperately to think of horrifying things to calm his excitement as he continued washing his body, but every time he did, visions of Deirdre entered his mind instead; he remembered the feel of her hands on his back and chest, sliding soapily over his skin, and the scent of her body, so recently used by her husband, and tried not to picture the scene, to no avail. As he washed himself, his hand moved of its own accord, stroking his cock as he took the place of A' Dale in his vision, with Deirdre moaning and writhing underneath him. Moments later, he let out a hoarse groan as his cum spilled onto his belly and he lay for a moment trying to catch his breath before cleaning up once more and exiting the tub. He reached quickly for the towel, his face flushing as he noted Deirdre's equally red neck and ears; luckily, she had done as he asked and turned away so she had only _heard_ him masturbating. He hadn't meant to do it but had been unable to stop himself after so many nights sleeping close by her yet not touching her, coupled with his own adrenaline push from their encounter with Prince John. He smiled ruefully, thinking of all the penance he was going to have to make to the priest for the last few minutes: masturbating, coveting another man's wife; and they'd probably get him for adultery for thinking of Deirdre while he was masturbating.

He finished drying his hair and put on his braes, pulling on his pants after. Bare-foot and bare-chested, he strode over to where Deirdre stood stiffly by the bed. He sat heavily on the coverlet and pulled her into his lap, kissing her temple.

"I'm sorry, lass. If Prince John's man would've let me send you away, I would have. And once you started touching me…I just couldn't control myself. Better _that_ than throwing you to the bed and breaking your marriage vows, eh?"

"I suppose so." Deidre paused before adding in a strangled voice, "Ruarc, can we never speak of this again?"

Ruarc smiled and chuckled deeply. "Can I not even speak of it with my men? I'm sure they'd be interested in your bathing me."

Deirdre turned a horrified countenance to Ruarc before closing her hand into a fist and swinging at him. He caught the fist only because he was expecting it, and laughed louder.

"Peace, Firéad! Have you lost your sense of humor, then? Do you think I'd really tell my men how close I came to lying with you, but still didn't? I'd be the laughing-stock!"

"Just please let's not tell Allan, okay? He'd never understand." Deirdre's lip was trembling, her eyes filling with tears as she thought of how much it would hurt Allan if he found out about what had just happened, even though she'd had no choice in the matter, even though she had not even had sex with Ruarc. The fact that she had been in the room with Ruarc when he was naked, that she had bathed him, and he had pleasured himself with her so close by would send Allan over the edge.

Ruarc pulled her head to his shoulder. "It'll be our little secret, lass, I promise. 'Til the day I die."


	54. Chapter 54: Gratitude

Chapter Fifty-four: Gratitude

Dressed at last, Ruarc peered out the door at the guards. "The Lady Deidre requires clean water to wash in."

The men looked at him askance. "_Lady_ Deirdre?" one of them asked cheekily. "Ain't no lady in your room, beggin' your pardon, Milord." He bowed low, exaggeratedly, his movements speaking his disdain for the Irishman louder than any words ever could have.

Ruarc cursed his slip of the tongue; he had formerly only known Deirdre as a lady. He grinned at the men, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'll call her whatever she wants so long as it puts her in a good mood." He winked at the guard, who nudged the other one, and the two men exchanged knowing looks.

"What's she need with clean water, though?"

"I prefer my women clean when we start, and I'm afraid I've already dirtied _that_ water," Ruarc replied, seething inside at the need to explain anything to these underlings.

Once more, the men grinned, and the one went off to find the servants while the other leaned back comfortably against the wall as Ruarc closed the door.

"What was that all about?" Deirdre asked.

"I thought you might like a bit of a wash, is all."

Deirdre's hands fisted and she stomped her foot. "You big oaf!" she hissed. "How am I to explain to Allan that the prince let me bathe while he was napping? He won't believe Prince John didn't expect _something _in return. It's going to be hard enough explaining to him why I left him lying there asleep instead of waking him and taking him with."

"Sorry, lass." Ruarc looked chagrined at his mistake. "Why _did_ you leave him there?"

Deidre frowned. "I wanted to give my thanks to Guy and his new wife."

"Guy? You mean Gisbourne? Are you talking about the man who tried to force you into marrying him? The one who had your husband tortured? You want to _thank_ him?" Ruarc asked incredulously.

"Lord, you sound just like Allan. Yes, I want to thank him. Just before you and Allan were to be whipped, I saw a woman—I assume it was Lady Gisbourne—lean over and talk to Guy. Guy leaned over to speak to the prince and the next thing I knew, the prince was declaring his 'dedication' to the people of England and having you two released." Deirdre had rolled her eyes at the word "dedication" and spoken it in a snooty voice. "You and Allan couldn't see, as your backs were to him. The backs he would've whipped had Guy and his wife not intervened. So, yes, I've a need to go and thank them."

Ruarc puffed out a breath, his eyebrows raised in exasperation. "You know, I'm starting to believe I dodged an arrow not being allowed to marry you." His face was serious until she glared at him, and then he started laughing. "All right, let's go. I'll make up something to tell the guard and then we'll go find them."

"Thank you, Ruarc."

Ruarc bit his tongue on telling her she could express her gratitude appropriately later and ushered her out of the room.

* * *

In their chambers, Guy and Addy were eating; bread, chicken, and watered wine were spread on the small table before them—it was too early in the season for local fruit and veggies, and the prince would only have the imports at supper later where he could enjoy them. Addy picked up her wine trencher, swirling the liquid in the cup before swallowing a small amount of it; it paid to keep a clear head in Prince John's presence.

"Thank you, Guy, for earlier, in the courtyard," Addy began, the first words they had spoken to one another since the incident. Immediately afterwards, Guy had steered her into the castle, then strode out after seeing her to their room; he had gone for a ride to clear his head and calm down.

"You know I love you deeply, Adelaide, but please do not ever ask me to do such a thing again. Do not ask me to help Allan A' Dale, his rogue wife or his outlaw friends; there is too much bad blood between us."

"I know, Guy, and I am sorry. I just could not take the thought…"

"I know." Guy smiled indulgently at his wife, leaning over to take her hand in his; he squeezed and she squeezed back, returning his smile.

A knock at the door broke the mood. Guy looked up in irritation. "Come in!" he barked, his eyes going wide with shock as the door opened to reveal those who had knocked.

* * *

Deirdre and Ruarc came to the door they had been directed to. Deirdre stopped and hesitated.

"What is it, lass?"

"I…the last time I saw Guy was at my wedding to Allan; he was not pleased with me."

"You are safe from him now. You are no longer an outlaw."

"I know. It's just…there's a lot of bad blood between us." Deidre would have smiled to know her words echoed those of Guy on the other side of the door.

"We could always leave," Ruarc suggested, rubbing her arms in support.

Deirdre shook her head. "No. I have to thank them."

"All right, then. It'll be a bit harder to do from this side of the door, though."

Deirdre slapped Ruarc playfully before turning to rap loudly on the oaken door. She heard Guy's voice boom from the other side. "Come in!" _Great, _she thought, opening the door,_ he sounds irritated already. _

* * *

Guy didn't know who he expected, but it surely had not been Deirdre A' Dale—particularly not without Allan. He rose quickly, placing his body in front of Adelaide's, in case the Irishman, who was her new master, meant trouble. He looked steadily at Deirdre, his blazing eyes slowly calming as they noted her condition: her hair was loose, but looked dull; her face was clean, but her eyes looked tired; her dress was dirty and torn; and her nails, when she held out her hand to greet them, were dirty and broken. He snorted and turned his back on her dismissively, reaching for his wine.

"What do you want?" he asked haughtily.

Deirdre curtsied low. "Lady Gisbourne, Guy…"

"_Lord_ Gisbourne to you, serf," Guy sneered, turning back around and dipping his head as he raised his eyebrows. "I told you that you would come to know your place."

Ruarc reached for his sword, his hand stayed by the touch of Deirdre's on his arm.

"Please, My Lord. He is right." Deirdre's eyes pleaded with Ruarc to hold; nostrils flaring angrily, he complied.

Guy's laugh was low and sardonic. "I was wondering why this man would take your place on the whipping block. Now I see. I suppose I should thank Allan—instead of making me a cuckold, he's become one himself."

Ruarc was trembling with rage as he held himself back from attacking Gisbourne for his derogatory comments toward Deirdre. Deirdre ignored both his rage, and Guy's comments, dropping to her knees to the shock of all in the room.

"Lady Gisbourne," Deirdre began again, addressing Guy's wife first before raising her eyes to look at Guy. "My Lord Gisbourne. I have done many things in my life I regret—I have hurt people and I have stolen from people, sometimes good people. I do not deserve the leniency you chose to show in the courtyard. I have come to apologize for wrongs done, and to express my gratitude for your intervention. You saved my husband, and My Lord O'Brian from a whipping, and for that I am eternally grateful. I needed you to know before My Lord O'Brian takes Allan and me out of England forever."

"A pretty speech," Guy snarled. Behind him, Adelaide arose and moved to stand before Deirdre.

"You once made promises to my husband that you chose not to keep. Guy is not a person who takes broken promises well. I, on the other hand, am eternally grateful to _you_ for breaking your promises to him. Had you not, he would never have entered my life. I am indeed a fortunate woman for his presence. Your apology is accepted," Here she turned slightly to give Guy a look that brooked no argument, "as is your gratitude. Go in peace to your new life, Deirdre A' Dale; enjoy your new home."

Adelaide held out her hands to Deirdre, who took them and let Lady Gisbourne help her to rise.

"Thank you once more, Lady Gisbourne," Deirdre responded.

"Adelaide," she corrected.

Ruarc watched in amusement as Gisbourne's face went pale, then flushed at his wife giving Deirdre the right to use her name rather than her title.

As Lady Gisbourne escorted them to the door, she added, "My Lord O'Brian, we will see you at supper."

Ruarc bowed low. "Indeed you will, My Lady." He put his hand on the small of Deirdre's back and steered her away, down the hall, as the door to Guy and Adelaide's chamber slammed shut behind them.

* * *

Outside of the town, the gang had bought some food and found a quiet place to eat. They were all still wound up from the earlier goings-on in the courtyard, but they were silent, each lost in their own thoughts of how this new development would affect them. It was Much, naturally, who broke the silence.

"So, they're really free now? And off to Ireland? I can't believe they won't be coming back with us. It was nice having Deirdre around," he babbled.

At this last comment, the others looked at him incredulously; his first days around her, when Deirdre had threatened his life many times in deeds as well as words, had been tense at best. Toward the end, though, they had become less than friends, but more than victim and would-be killer.

"Well, at least she helped with the cooking!" he declared defensively.

"She _was_ a good cook," Little John put forth, effusive praise from the big man.

"And she knew her herbs," Djaq added thoughtfully.

"She could fight," Marian declared, having trained with Deirdre after Tom's birth.

"So who'll play the front man when we need it now?" Will asked.

Will's eyes were troubled. He had latched onto Allan as the roguish older brother he had never had—the one he could talk about _anything_ with. He had been angry and pushed Allan away when the older man had decamped to Gisbourne's service but welcomed him back with open arms and a huge sense of relief when he had returned to the gang.

"Well, I could do it," Djaq volunteered.

She, too, had been relieved when Allan had come back to the gang. She knew he was a good man who just didn't always make the right decisions. Since Deirdre had joined the gang, and the couple had become parents, she had watched them both curiously, wondering how a marriage among outlaws could work. She had not forgotten her proposal to Will, and despite his reluctance to marry her until they could live safely together, she was beginning to feel like time was not their friend, that they could not wait as Will desired to.

They were all silent for a moment, before Robin sighed, picking up a rock and throwing it hard into the nearby trees. He put down his food, striding away angrily. The others looked after him in confusion; Much started to follow him, but was stopped by Marian's restraining hand.

"I'll go, Much."

The former servant nodded, his eyes troubled; he always felt Robin's emotions very deeply. They had been raised together, fought in a horrific war together—they were as close as two unrelated men could be who were not lovers. He also sensed that Robin needed the comfort of his wife right now, and so he would wait for their return, when he hoped Robin would be smiling.

Marian caught up to Robin in a small copse of trees, where he was leaning heavily on one of the birches at the far end. She walked up behind him, speaking his name softly as she reached for him, the same way she would try to calm a skittish horse. He turned to her, and the anguish on his face took her breath away. Without a word, he enveloped her in his arms, crushing her body to his. He pulled away just enough to take her mouth roughly with his, his hands yanking brutally at her clothing until she made him pause.

"Robin, if you keep up like this, I'll have to walk back to the others in rags," she teased against his mouth.

He laughed in chagrin at his actions, and would have stopped altogether, but as he pushed lightly away from Marian, she pulled her top off, letting it drop to the ground before sliding out of her boots and her pants. She let down her hair and stood before him, a forest nymph, and he felt his body—which had begun to come under some control at her words—react once more. Quickly, he stripped out of his clothes and pulled her to him before bringing her down to the grass.

Marian welcomed the coolness of the grass and the moss at her back as Robin lay on top of her, his erection pressing warmly against her body. She opened her legs to him and took him inside of her, letting him vent his frustration by loving on her. Her hips actually became sore as he pounded into her over and over, each thrust deeper than the last as her body grew wetter. Usually, he was a very gentle lover, full of fun and laughter, but sometimes, when his passions got the better of him, he was forceful, like now.

A part of Robin suspected that he might be hurting Marian, but he could not seem to stop himself. He was angry with Allan and Deirdre, and jealous of them, and afraid for what the future might hold for himself and Marian. He thrust viciously into her until he finally felt his release build up; he buried himself deep inside of her as he cried out, feeling her squeeze him tight as her own body welcomed the orgasm.

He rolled quickly off of her once he had caught his breath, and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine. Now, tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing anymore." He grinned as she looked at him in annoyance.

"Robin!"

"All right, I'll tell you. It's Allan and Deirdre."

"No!"

"Now who's being sarcastic?"

Marian smiled warmly at him before urging him to continue.

"I guess I'm angry with them—Allan in particular. He said we could trust him, and now he's leaving again."

"But he hasn't broken his trust. He never told Gisbourne or the prince about us being in the crowd."

"I know. And I don't suppose he _will_ tell them where we are, but still…"

Marian raised herself on one elbow to look into her husband's eyes.

"Tell me the truth. You're not angry. You're jealous."

"Jealous? What have I got to be jealous of Allan for? Deirdre? No, thanks."

"Not Deirdre. Tom."

"What?"

"You're jealous that they have a child and are now going off to start a new life, safe from the wrath of the sheriff and Prince John."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. I've seen the way you look at little Tom. You want a child. You want us to start our family. But you know as well as I do, that can't happen until King Richard is back in England. It will happen, soon. We will defeat the sheriff, and get the king to come back to claim his throne once more; your lands will be restored to you, and we can begin our family. But first, we must defeat the sheriff."

Robin frowned before a thought struck him. "You know, you had said you wouldn't marry me until the king came home, yet here we are…"

"That was different. Gisbourne had me backed into a corner."

"Is that the _only_ reason you married me?"

"Why else would I?"  
Robin growled and rolled her back onto her back, nudging her knees apart once more as he pushed back inside of her.  
"I was thinking that _this_ was a good reason!"

* * *

**A/N: So my first graphic R&M scene—yikes! Hope you don't hate it!**


	55. Chapter 55: Cleanliness

Chapter Fifty-five: Cleanliness 

Allan awoke as the sun was beginning its descent and the cool spring breezes began to blow through the open windows. He looked around to find himself in a storage room of sorts. Alone. He groaned, smacking his dry lips as he sat up and felt the coolness of the floor beside him; Deirdre had been gone for hours and he had been married to her long enough that he knew she was not just off relieving herself. Somewhere, in the castle or in the town, his wife was either in trouble or about to be. Heaving a sigh of exasperation, he rose and made his way back down to the kitchens. Not only could he get a drink in the kitchens, but kitchen maids usually knew all the gossip—they might have even seen Deirdre.

* * *

Ruarc turned on Deirdre as soon as they were out of sight of Guy and Adelaide's room.

"That man is an arrogant ass! I could kill him for the way he spoke to you! He had no right, Deirdre."

Deirdre laid calming hands on Ruarc's bulging arm muscles.

"Ruarc, it's all right. I'm not a lady anymore—in fact, _you've_ made me a serf. Not that I mind," she added quickly at his black look. "I'd rather be a serf for you than a lady married to Gisbourne any day. Yes, he tortured Allan, and I can never forgive him _that_, but I did play with him, and hurt him; he deserves the chance to vent some of his frustration, does he not?"

Ruarc sighed heavily. "I suppose he does. But he's had that chance now, Deirdre. If he does it again, I'll take him to task on it, you can be sure of that."

"Ruarc, thanks to you, Allan and Tom and I have a chance at a regular life. Please don't mess that up because Guy says something bad about me. Promise me."

Deirdre looked up at him stubbornly, her raised chin only reaching his chest; it didn't matter that she was that much smaller than him and a woman to boot—she'd take him down if he didn't promise, and make good on his promise.

Sighing once more, he said softly, "I promise."

"I didn't hear you."

"I promise!" he nearly shouted. "Let's go find your husband. I've a sudden need to extend my gratitude and my condolences for his choice of a bride." He raised an ironic eyebrow at her as he spoke and was rewarded by a slap on the arm for his sarcasm.

* * *

Guy turned to Addy as Deirdre and Ruarc left their room.

"I'll thank you to not make me look like a fool again, Adelaide." He spoke harshly, his embarrassment over the whole situation making him angry.

Adelaide looked up at her handsome husband, his features pinched in anger; she liked him so much better when he was smiling. If it had been Lord Henry, she would have cowered, awaiting the beating, the rape that would have followed the scene with Deirdre and her Irish master. Adelaide found that it was becoming easier every day to realize that Guy was not her first husband, that Guy actually cared for her, and would not harm her for the fun of it or in retaliation. She placed a calming hand on his chest and looked up at him with doe eyes.

"I'm sorry, Guy. I thought I was preventing you from making yourself look like a fool," she cooed, her other hand stroking along the top of his thigh.

Guy inhaled sharply as her hand stroked along his suddenly hardening cock. She was smiling at him, and leaned up, her body language demanding a kiss. Growling, Guy complied, fisting one hand in her hair as the other crushed her to him, trapping her roaming hand between their bodies.

"You should not trifle with me, Lady Gisbourne," he whispered against her mouth.

"I would never trifle with you, My Lord Gisbourne. You are far too important to me," she whispered back before he kissed her again.

* * *

Deirdre and Ruarc were roaming the halls as Deirdre tried to remember which room she had left Allan in. All the doors looked the same, and she had been a bit distracted at the time, making the task that much more difficult. Deirdre was becoming frantic, afraid that if Allan awoke without her beside him, he would become worried or angry.

Ruarc stopped her and pulled her to him, cupping her chin in his hand and forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Come on, lass. We'll go back to my room. You can soak yourself in the tub and I'll go fetch my men to help me find Allan, all right?"

Deirdre swallowed and stared into Ruarc's eyes miserably. In that moment, Ruarc knew that what she had told him was true: if she ever lost Allan, she would quite literally die. His gut wrenched with the sure knowledge that he had truly lost her. He wanted to cry and beat the walls, but even more so, he wanted to see her smile again. He swore to himself that he would find Allan, if he had to walk in on every couple, and every roomful of women in this castle. Quietly, he led her back to his room and ordered her to get herself bathed while he was gone, promising that when she was clean, her husband would be standing before her.

* * *

In the kitchens, Allan was tearing into some bread, still hungry from having eaten very little earlier in the day, and his quick romp with Deirdre.

"Have you seen my wife?" he asked the cook. "She's got yellow hair, blue eyes, and stands about so tall." He held his hand to the bottom of his nose to show Deirdre's height.

"I know yer wife. At least I hope that was the woman you was in 'ere with earlier. One of my girls saw 'er in the corridor upstairs. They were bringin' water for that Irishman what brought you 'ere. Yer wife took the towel from my girl and sent 'er back down 'ere, sayin' as I had somethin' for 'er to do."

"Did you? 'ave somethin' for your girl to do?"

The cook gave Allan a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, lad, I didn't. Looks like yer wife wanted to express 'er gratitude proper to yer new lord."

Allan paled at first, then thought of all the times, particularly since O'Brian had come into their lives, that Deirdre had expressed how much she loved him, Allan, and not Ruarc.

"No, you got it wrong, missus. My Deirdre's faithful, she is. Yer girl was mistaken."

As Allan left, the cook shook her head, feeling bad for the blue-eyed man.

* * *

Deirdre sighed with pleasure as she eased her tired, sore body into the water. While she and Ruarc had been with Guy and Adelaide, the servants had re-filled the tub with hot water, which was still warm. Ruarc had thoughtfully asked the servants to bring a fresh towel as well, and rose petals so she could smell like her favorite flower. She still worried about Allan's whereabouts, but decided to trust Ruarc; when Allan was found, they could find her father and be off with him to his London house for the night. She drifted off to sleep thinking about the next day, and how they would be setting off for Ireland and a new life.

* * *

In the upstairs corridor, Allan asked a servant to direct him to Lord O'Brian's room choking on the use of Ruarc's title. He thanked the young woman and walked over to the indicated doorway, knocking until he heard a woman's voice—Deirdre's voice—tell him to come in. As he opened the door, he looked in on a scene that warmed him in all the right places. Deirdre was lying naked in a tub of water before a fire with a cloth over her face; he couldn't see any of the good bits, just her arms and the top of her chest and neck, but every scrap of her clothes lay in a heap near the bed. Allan closed the door behind him and silently approached her, a playful grin on his face.

"Ruarc, is that you?"

Allan froze in mid-stride, his face a confused mask.

"Ruarc? If that's you, you'd better keep your back turned. Did you find Allan?" she asked, removing the cloth from her face and looking into the horrified countenance of her husband.

"Allan!" she cried, launching herself from the tub and into his arms just as the door opened once more and Ruarc came in.

"Ruarc, I found him!" Deirdre exclaimed, as Allan hastily turned her body away from Ruarc's bemused gaze.

"I see that, lass. Shall I leave you two alone, then?"

"If you wouldn't mind, seein' as my wife's not got a stitch on," Allan answered hotly.

Ruarc grinned at Deirdre, whose face was suffused with joy, and then let himself out of the room.

As the door closed once more, Allan pushed Deirdre away from him and began handing her clothes to her; unfortunately, in his discomfort, he had picked up her outer things, and so she dropped them back, reaching down for the undergarments instead. Allan fought for control, choosing to turn away so temptation would not bite him in the arse as he watched her bend over to retrieve her clothing. He wanted answers from Deirdre first: where she had gone to, what trouble had she gotten into, and why was she here—naked—in Ruarc's room? Soon, he felt his wife's arms go around his waist, and he reached down to hold her hands before turning back to face her. Before he could start asking questions, though, she began unfastening his shirt.

"Now, luv, just you 'old on a minute. I've got some questions for you."

"And I'll have some answers for you. _After_ you get in the tub."

"I ain't no sissy lord to be gettin' into a tub full o' rose petals."

"That's okay, then. Ruarc sure did smell good after _his_ bath."

Allan glared at her suspiciously, sure he was being baited.

"And just 'ow would you know _that_?"

"Get in the tub and I'll tell you."

"If I get in the tub, I won't be able to catch you as quick if you decide you need to run away," he grumbled.

Deirdre folded her arms stubbornly across her chest, glancing up at him with her chin down and eyebrows cocked. Allan let out an exasperated breath before he finished untying his shirt and pulled it off over his head. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he had the shirt half off, and he felt the cool touch of Deirdre's fingers on his abdomen. She began untying his pants and he knew that temptation had found him once more; Deirdre could see exactly what he was feeling as the cloth fell to the floor and she grinned before pushing him onto the bed and pulling off both his boots and the trousers. To his disappointment, when she leaned over him, she reached for his hands to help him up and shoved him toward the tub. He climbed in awkwardly, curling his nose at the flowery smell.

"Where did you get yerself off to, anyway?' he asked, then squawked as Deirdre shoved his head under the water. He came up, splashing about, eyes shooting blue fire.

"What was _that_ for?" he demanded, grabbing her arm as her hand reached once more for his head.

"If you're head isn't wet, how am I supposed to get the soap in?" she reasoned, opening her hand to show him the bar of lavender soap she had used on Ruarc earlier.

He raised a suspicious eyebrow at her, but settled back once more against the back of the tub and let her work the lather into his hair. As her fingers began working their magic, he forgot all about the questions he wanted to ask her and just enjoyed.

Deirdre took a deep breath, watching as Allan's body began to relax; better to catch him while he was calm. Her hands moved down to his muscular shoulders, continuing to massage him.

"I went to see Guy and his new wife," she began.

"You _what_?"

As Allan turned toward her, he lost the grip he had been able to keep with his body laid out in the tub. Deirdre took advantage and quickly pushed him under again to rinse him.

"Stop doin' that!" Allan shouted as he came up for air once more. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her around beside him, keeping a firm hold on her.

"Why would you go to see Guy?"

"To thank him."

Allan looked at her like she had lost her mind, and indeed, for a moment, he was sure she had.

"You wanted to thank 'im? Guy of Gisbourne? Who would've forced you to marry 'im and 'ad me tortured? You wanted to _thank_ 'im?"

Deirdre gave a cry of irritation. "You and Ruarc are two peas in a pod, you know that?"

"Jazus, lass, you really 'ave gone round the bend! What are you on about now?"

"Let me go, Allan!"

"No. Not until you tell me what's goin' on, and why're you comparin' me to O'Brian!"

"Ruarc said the same thing about me being crazy to want to thank Guy."

"Then we actually agree on something?"

"Aye, you're both idjits!"

Allan pulled her closer, nearly into the water as he pushed his face into hers belligerently.

"Who're you callin' an idiot?"

"Well, if you act like an idjit and speak like an idjit…"

In pure frustration, he yanked her into the tub, pushing her head down under the water in revenge. She came up spluttering, and he began laughing at how bedraggled and angry she looked.

"Don't feel so good on the other side, does it?" he asked.

"Not with your stick and berries under there, it doesn't," she replied haughtily.

"Stick and berries? I didn't hear you complainin' about 'em before!" he huffed.

"Well, I…" Deirdre paused in her tirade. "I…"

Allan raised amused eyebrows at her. "Well, well, well. The mouthy Deirdre A' Dale is speechless! Call the town crier."

Deirdre smacked his chest, but not very hard. "Allan A' Dale, you are just such a…such a…"

"Yes?" he goaded.

"Man!" It was not lost on her sense of irony that she had given Ruarc the exact same "insult" not many days before, and how very much alike the two men were beginning to seem to her.

The smile that had been playing on his lips broke out into a full grin as he held her hips, grinding them onto his so she could feel how much of a man he was.

"Indeed I am, luv. A man who wants his gorgeous wife right now. What shall we do about that, eh?"

Deirdre gave a little groan as she felt his erection pressing against her soft core through the cloth of her dress. She pushed against Allan's chest once more, shifting enough to move the skirts up and out of the way before settling in his lap once more. She reached down between them to grasp his cock and help guide him into her, hearing his moan of pleasure as he felt her velvety walls close around him. She rose and fell on his lap, the rhythm splashing water onto the stone floor.

Allan pulled the shoulder of Deirdre's dress down on one side and pulled out a plump breast; the milk leaked out as he teased it, and he leaned forward to lick the sweet stuff off of her nipple, earning a groan of delight from his wife. He found it difficult to lick her while she was riding him so earnestly, so with a growl, he took the nipple in his mouth, suckling it instead.

The door opened as Deirdre cried out in pleasure from Allan's assault on her breast, and Ruarc stood in the doorway, smiling bemusedly for a moment, wishing it was him still in the tub, before clearing his throat. He was rewarded by startled cries and looks of shock and anger from the couple.

"Sorry, thought you'd be dressed by now," he teased. "I guess I'll have some clean things sent up for you both. Clean _and dry_," he added with a loaded glance at Allan's sopping things on the floor and Deirdre's dress that was still on her body. "I'll have the servant knock first, shall I? Inventive way to wash your things, by the way, Deirdre. Maybe you could be my washer-woman back in Ireland, eh?"

Allan picked up the brush that was on a table next to the tub and lobbed it at Ruarc, who dodged it by closing the door, and the brush clattered to the floor. Even through the oak door, they could hear his deep laughter.

"I'll kill that man one day, I will, Deirdre."

Deirdre took his face in her hands, planting a hot kiss on his mouth, feeling his softening erection begin to stir once more to life inside of her.

"Why don't you worry about finishing _me_ off first, Mo Croi?"

* * *

**A/N: Well, there's the tub scene y'all were really waiting for--hope you liked! There's a lot going on in this one--I'd love to hear what you think, so please review. I'm back to one chap a week, as Nano slowed me down for "Den", but now that I've completed it (YAY, I made the 50,000 words in a new story!), I will be back to work on "Den", wrapping it up in preparation for the third book in the series. Will let you know the title to look for in Den's last chapter. As always, thanks for reading!**


	56. Chapter 56: Encounters

Chapter Fifty-six: Encounters

That night, at Fàelàn's London estate, Allan, Deirdre, and her father sat by the fire, drinking whiskey from Fàelàn's private stores. Allan had drunk plenty of ale in his life, even hard cider and the occasional stolen wine, but never had he tasted the Irish drink before. He took the proffered glass—a luxury in and of itself—and gulped the liquid down, nearly choking in the process to the laughter of his wife and father in-law.

"Bloody 'ell! What is that stuff?" he exclaimed hoarsely, glaring suspiciously at the O'Nialls. He was pretty sure Fàelàn wouldn't hesitate to arrange for his demise, but had always imagined it would be in a dark alley with a knife instead of in a cheery home by poisoning.

"Uisce beatha," Deirdre replied simply between giggles.

"Try sipping it, son," Fàelàn suggested amusedly.

Cautiously, Allan sniffed the liquid, waiting until Deirdre and Fàelàn had put their glasses to their own mouths before taking a very small sip. He wrinkled his nose as the stuff burned its way down his throat, but was pleasantly surprised to feel the warmth spreading from his belly to his entire body mere moments later. He hadn't thought poisoning would be pleasant, but the uisce beatha gave him a sense of relaxation that he usually only got after making love to his wife.

"Of course, it's only a medicinal," Fàelàn cautioned at the considering look on Allan's face. "I take one glass at night to burn out the poisons of the day."

Allan looked to his robust father in-law and grinned. "Well, it seems to work, that's certain."

Fàelàn returned Allan's grin before turning to his daughter. "Now, tell me about my grandson."

* * *

Fàelàn sat alone, having sent Deirdre and Allan to their room earlier, advising them to rest for the long trip ahead of them. He was surprised by the knock on his door, uncertain who would come calling at this hour that his guards would not have stopped. He opened the door to another surprise: Ruarc O'Brian, who was swaying drunkenly in the low light of the fire.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, he insisted he had to see you tonight. We told him it was too late at night, and he said as he was Deirdre's master now, he'd see you now or take her back to the castle with him."

"It's all right, Seamus. Come in, Ruarc."

The big warrior gathered himself, staggering only slightly as he entered his former master's home; Ruarc's men positioned themselves outside as Seamus relieved Ruarc of his sword. Fàelàn stood by the fireplace, hands free, ready for anything; he didn't really thing Ruarc meant him harm, but the younger man was obviously drunk and Fàelàn didn't trust any man's judgment when that man was in his cups.

"I meant to find you earlier, Ruarc, to say thank you. You've likely saved my girl's life."

"I don't need your thanks," Ruarc responded belligerently. "I'd do it for her again, you know that."

Fàelàn smiled. "I know. You two were always so close."

"Would that we'd been closer," Ruarc muttered.

"What?" Fàelàn frowned at his former protégé.

Ruarc glared at the older man as he tried hard to concentrate on the words he had come here to say. What he really wanted was to strangle the O'Niall and his randy son in-law, and run away with Deirdre. _If I keep her pregnant and busy getting pregnant, she won't have time to grieve for Allan_, he thought drunkenly, before a memory of her face in the hallway earlier, when they couldn't find Allan, assailed him. He pointed his finger at the O'Niall, jabbing it in the air as he closed the distance between them in two long strides.

Fàelàn straightened quickly, hand going to his shirt, where he kept a small knife. He wasn't afraid of Ruarc, but seeing the suffused rage on the younger man's face made O'Niall wary, if confused.

"It's _your_ fault, you bloody old devil!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ruarc! What's my fault?"

"Deirdre and," he swallowed hard, unable to finish, looking miserably toward the stairs. He didn't see Allan, who had come down, too restless to sleep in a bed, indoors, after so many nights sleeping outside of late. Allan stayed out of sight, hand on his meat-knife though, ready to defend his father in-law.

O'Niall put his hand on Ruarc's arm, but the big man shook it off and strode to the front of the small hall, looking blindly out the expensive Venetian windows.

"Why, My Lord, did you deny my suit of her? Why, if you were going to let her marry a commoner anyway? My father was a _cattle lord_, not a serf! We owned land! I love her and you knew it. I would've given my life's blood for her and I let her go, let you take her, because I knew she'd have a better life with a lord. Allan's not even lord of the little band of men he runs with."

"I was under the impression that you liked him," Fàelàn responded.

"Whether or not I like him is of no conse…conseq…doesn't matter. Why did you let her marry him?"

"Have you never met my daughter? I hate to admit it, being her father, but I don't think I've ever had any real control over her."

"You could've taken control. Talked to A' Dale the way you did me."

"By the time I met Allan, it was too late, or I might've done so. What was I to do when she was no longer pure? It was hard enough to get men of power and consequence to look past that brutal tongue of hers, and that hard head, despite her beauty. You were there. How many lords did she send packing? It was a dozen if it was one, and you bloody well know it! By the time I met Allan A' Dale, he had already lain with her, and I still would have sent him packing but for two things: the way she looked at him, like the sun rose and set on him, and the way he looked at her the same way. More to the point, it was the way he stood up to me for her; I knew if he had the balls to stand up to me in defense of her, he would defend her to the death against anyone else. I knew in that moment that no matter who Allan A' Dale's parents were, no matter what his status was, he was the man for her."

Ruarc deflated, weighed down by the knowledge that perhaps Deirdre could have been his if he had stood up to the O'Niall all those years ago. The only thing he could do now was protect her and the man she loved. He closed his eyes, willing the pain down, and shook off the comforting hand of his former master.

"I love her so much, My Lord," he whispered, the pain in his voice giving it a rough edge.

"I know you do, Ruarc. And that is why, once more, you must let her go."

"I always seem to be letting her go for her own good." The bitterness in Ruarc's tone was unmistakable. "The worst part is, I can't even kill A' Dale to have her."

In the hallway, Allan stiffened once more. Ruarc's words of love and loss, spoken with such obvious pain, had had Allan feeling sorry for the Irishman. He had suspected that the thought of killing him had crossed Ruarc's mind more than once; to hear that suspicion spoken aloud was disconcerting at best.

After a very pregnant pause, Ruarc spoke again, his voice heavy with resignation. "Do you know she told me she would die without him? That if something was to happen to Allan, she would take her own life? I thought maybe she was just being dramatic, to try to push me away, but she's not. This afternoon, in the castle, we couldn't find Allan for a bit and she was in a panic. I had to promise her I'd go and find him. How ironic is that? In order to keep the woman I love more than my own life happy, I have to keep the man she loves—who is not me—safe. I don't know which of the Fair Ones I've provoked or how, but They're getting Their revenge, that's certain."

There was nothing to be said to that, and a moment later, Ruarc and Fàelàn exchanged good-byes and the door swung open and shut once more.

"You can come out now, Allan." Fàelàn spoke before turning from the door.

Allan stepped into the room, surprised that he had been discovered. Explosively, he let out the breath he had been holding.

"How'd you know I was there?"

"In my line of work, you know when people are lurking about. If you don't, you die quickly."

Allan wasn't sure if his father in-law meant his job as an advisor or his job as a spy, and it didn't really matter—the result would surely be the same. Allan looked to the door Ruarc had just exited from.

"I knew Ruarc wanted Deirdre, but I never really knew 'ow bad before. Makes me almost feel bad for 'im."

"Aye, Ruarc has loved my daughter since he first laid eyes on her, I'm certain of that."

"Are you sorry you turned him away?"

"Yes," Fàelàn answered bluntly.

"Oy! I thought you said you liked me!"

"I do. Now. You're a father now. What if you had a daughter instead of a son? What if that daughter married a man with nothing—no money, no land, no title—when she had had the chance at marrying a man with all of those things? Wouldn't you want your little girl to be looked after?"

"Well, yeah, when you put it like that, I'm maybe not the best decision Deirdre's ever made. But I love 'er. I'd give my life for 'er. And somehow, I'll give 'er all those things she deserves. Maybe not a title. But somehow I'll make money and I'll get land." At his father in-law's raised eyebrow, Allan amended, "Maybe not land. But definitely money. I just dunno how, is all."

Fàelàn clapped Allan on the back. "Don't you worry, Son. We'll get it sorted somehow. For now, it's enough that you're no longer hunted. Go back to Ireland with Ruarc—you'll be safe with him, I'm sure."

It was Allan's turn to look to Fàelàn in astonishment. "I'd feel a lot better about it if you'd teach me your tricks about knowin' when someone's lurkin' about."

* * *

Upstairs, Allan crept back into bed with his wife. She was still sleeping deeply, exhausted by her husband's near-whipping, making love with him—twice—and the stress of the situations with Ruarc, and with Guy and Adelaide. Allan slipped his arms around her, pulling her close and thanking God once more for bringing her into his life.

"I love you, Deirdre," he whispered into her ear before kissing her neck and settling back to return to sleep.

* * *

Ruarc steered the small blonde whore into the castle and up to his room; his men took up positions outside the door. The whore dropped her dress—the only garment she was wearing—to the floor as Ruarc quickly shed his own clothes. She gasped in surprised delight as his manhood sprang free of his braes. She moved into his arms and he kissed her roughly, his thumbs stroking the nipples of her ample bosom. His erection pressed against her belly, demanding release.

He had never ordered the tub removed, and no one else had requested its use, so it still lay before the fire. Quickly, he picked the whore up and dumped her unceremoniously into the cold water; the crushed rose petals from Allan and Deirdre's earlier lovemaking parted as her body passed through them and she squealed in shock. Ruarc growled at her to be quiet, dunking her and washing her thoroughly until she smelled of roses. She was beginning to get a little concerned as to where this night was going—earlier, when the handsome lord had first entered the brothel, she had been pleased that he had chosen her. She hadn't worried too much when he had demanded she come with him instead of completing their transaction at the brothel, not even when one of his men had whispered in her ear that her name was "Deirdre" tonight; she was used to sometimes fulfilling unusual requests, and the lord had paid well—in advance. Even his more than average size was not a problem—she had taken bigger men, and not always in the "normal" fashion. Now, as he washed her, she began to get nervous. Washing was a bad thing.

Once she was thoroughly cleaned, he yanked her out of the tub and dried her quickly, pulling her over to the bed and throwing her down before he knelt between her legs. She cried out as his lips and tongue moved over her mound, his tongue diving deep inside of her, wiping away all of her concerns. Before long, he swung his legs around until he was straddling her head and his erection was in her face. She reached up to grab him and pulled him into her mouth, sucking and licking while he moaned in pleasure against her slit. He stroked in and out of her mouth for a bit, then pulled out suddenly and positioned himself between her legs. His thick head pushed against her soft folds, and then he was inside of her, sliding his length into her warm, wet center until his balls slapped her bottom. He rode her hard, thrusting in and out of her full length as she slammed her hips back at him. Gathering himself, he pushed even deeper, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his seed, crying out the name "Deirdre" as he did so. When he rolled off of her, he pulled her to him, nuzzling her neck.

"Tá grá agam duit*, Deirdre," he whispered before passing out. The whore didn't know what the Irishman had said, but it had sounded sweet—whoever or wherever Deirdre was, she was a lucky woman to have caught the heart of such a handsome and considerate lover.

* * *

Ruarc awoke to a pounding head-ache and a sense of dread. It took him a moment to sort through his brain and determine if last night had been real or a dream; he remembered making love to Deirdre, but not how she had come to be with him instead of at her father's house. He didn't know why she had decided to commit adultery and he didn't care. His cock stirred to life once more as he thought of how good she had felt beneath him and wrapped around him last night. He peeled back the covers to see her face in the morning light, and nearly shrieked at what the sun revealed. The woman rolled over, cracking caked eyelids, and smiled at him, revealing that half of her teeth were missing—mostly in the front. Her breasts fell limply to her sides as she stretched and moved toward him, obviously going for a morning kiss. He jumped quickly from the bed, eyes wide, erection gone.

"Look," he stammered fearfully, "I don't know who you are or how you came to be here, but it's time you went home."

"But I'm Deirdre," the woman made a feeble attempt at purring at him and Ruarc moved quickly to gather up his clothes, wincing as the sun hit his eyes. It was obvious that he had drunk _way_ too much the previous night. His stomach roiled in protest and he barely made it to the chamber-pot—thankfully empty—in time. His shoulders heaved as he emptied his stomach. The door opened and his men entered. Faces emotionless, trying desperately not to grin, they collected the whore's clothing and threw it to her. She stood and faced them, displaying her "wares."

"Are ye sure you boys don't wanna enjoy some of what yer boss 'ad last night?"

The men shuddered in unison, thinking of their pretty young lovers back in Ireland. Ruarc was still moaning and retching into the chamber pot, and the whore was huffily dressing when Deirdre and Allan showed up at the door. As they took in the scene, Allan began laughing uncontrollably and Deirdre raced to Ruarc's side, crouching beside his naked body and rubbing his back. Allan stopped laughing abruptly and grabbed his wife to usher her out of the room, much to her protestations.

"Just "til we get 'is pants on, eh?" Allan reasoned, closing the door in her face.

A moment later, the door opened once more, and the whore stormed out; she stopped when she saw the petite blonde woman standing across the hall.

"Who're you?" she demanded.

"Deirdre."

Suddenly, the whore's demeanor changed; she swaggered exaggeratedly over and laughed in Deirdre's face.

"Oh my. You 'ave no idea what yer missin'. Or do you, maybe?"

"What are you on about?" Deirdre frowned at the older woman.

"You and the lord Irish in there. Are ye 'is wife, 'is mistress, what? Are ye steppin' out on 'im?"

"'Stepping out'? 'Lord Irish'? You mean you think Ruarc and I are…No, no, no. I'm a married woman, a happily married woman. And not to Ruarc." Deirdre was emphatic in her denial, but the whore didn't seem to notice.

"Have ye bin with 'im, then?"

"No! I told you, I'm happily married."

"Maybe not as 'appy as ye'd be in the Irisher's bed. That man did things my body'll remember 'til the day I die."

"Which might be any minute now if you don't leave, you bloody whore!" Deirdre growled.

The whore took one look at Deirdre's face and decided it was time to leave. As she flounced down the stairs, the door to Ruarc's chambers opened and Allan stepped out, looking sheepish.

"He, ah, 'e says as 'ow he don't want you to see 'im just now. Says 'e ain't feelin' so good, but 'e should be right as rain in a little bit. He'll come fetch us at the stables soon."

"He'd better. I need to get back to Tom soon." Deirdre massaged her aching breasts, the action drawing Allan's gaze automatically. He licked his suddenly dry lips.

"I could 'elp you out with that, you know," he offered.

Deidre grinned. "Now, Mo Croi, I've put you out enough for the last day and night."

Allan tore his gaze away from his wife's chest to look into her eyes, a cheeky grin spreading across his features.

"Just tryin' to 'elp. I don't mind."

Deirdre laughed and slipped her arm through her husband's as they made their way down the stairs and over to the stables to wait for Ruarc to pull himself together.

* * *

**A/N:** ***Tá grá agam duit: If you haven't figured this one out, it means, "I love you." Please review!**


	57. Chapter 57: Farewells

Chapter Fifty-seven: Farewells

They had escaped London without having to see the prince, mainly because they had left quite early and the prince liked to sleep in. Ruarc had winced in pain as he mounted Aimhirghin, and the others had been hard pressed not to laugh at their leader's foolhardiness. As it was, huge grins were exchanged that would have angered Ruarc were he not squinting so hard against the early morning light. They exited the gates of London and urged their mounts into a trot and then a canter, happy to be free of the city and its close, foul-smelling environs. They came to a stop at the midwife's home; Deirdre and Ruarc both dismounted quickly—Deirdre to greet Tom and put him to her sore breast, and Ruarc to find a bush and finish the job of emptying his stomach. Allan exchanged impish looks with Ruarc's men while Deirdre sat glaring at her husband's lack of compassion.

Tom nursed hungrily, happy to have his mother's breast back instead of the warm goat's milk and honey mixture the midwife had given him from a gunny sack with a small hole in it. He had wailed for a good part of the day, his mother's stubbornness not allowing him to take milk from anything that was not her breast. Close to midnight, he had finally given in, sucking greedily on the sack of milk. He had awakened in the morning with his stubbornness firmly back in place, and had cried pitifully when he had heard his mother's voice and smelled the warmth of her skin, until he had latched on, tugging and pulling, expressing his anger with his mother for leaving him.

Deirdre sighed in contentment, despite the initial pain of Tom's fervent suckling, and leaned her head back against the wall of the little house. Allan left Ruarc to the ungentle hands of his men and the midwife, who clucked and griped about "men!" before sprinkling some chamomile leaves into a pot of water over the fire and scooping some of the resultant tea out to help calm Ruarc's stomach. Kneeling by Deirdre's side, Allan placed a hand softly on the back of Tom's head, smiling indulgently as his son's small hand pushed against his own big one. He bent over to kiss Tom's soft hair, his enthusiasm breaking the baby's hold on his mother's breast and bringing a loud wail for a moment, before Deirdre popped her nipple back in his greedy mouth. Deirdre glared at Allan, but not too angrily, before they shared a chuckle at their son's expense.

Ruarc sat back against the house with a groan, holding his head in his hands, and wishing the grass wouldn't sway quite so loudly, and that the ants would stop stomping on the ground as they passed by. Robin's cheerful greeting of, "Good morning, all!" as he stepped out of the woods backing the house nearly brought tears to Ruarc's eyes as he winced.

Allan stepped forward, holding out his arm in greeting to Robin, who gave the extended limb a black look before Marian nudged him and he extended his own arm coolly. Allan cocked an eyebrow in surprise—he had thought Robin would be happy for them if Ruarc's plan worked. He realized that Deirdre was right—Robin was not as forgiving and thoughtful a man as he portrayed himself to be; in fact, he could be as petty and spiteful as the next man if the emotions warring on his face were any indication of his nature.

Marian stepped forward and threw her arms around Allan, looking down with teary eyes at where Deirdre sat with Tom.

"Congratulations. We're so happy for you," she declared, holding Allan close once more.

Allan hadn't really known Marian all that well before his stint as Guy's lieutenant, but after she had first threatened and then saved his life, they had formed an uneasy truce. Toward the end, he had saved her life, and then Deirdre had come along, and Allan had begun to question what he was doing playing on the sheriff's team. The most important thing in Marian's mind was that he had never betrayed Robin and the gang, despite the type of coercion the sheriff and Guy were not afraid to use. He had also wronged the peasants during his tenure with Guy, but at Deirdre's urging, Allan had gone to the peasants he had wronged, apologizing and giving of his time and strength and money to help them; she had accompanied him with a bundled-up Tom, to ensure that no one's anger got the better of them. In Marian's mind, there was no reason not to trust Allan once more.

Robin however, had not seen the knife's edge that Allan had had to walk. He did not know the pain Allan had suffered at the hands of two men so diametrically opposed, two men who, despite their differences to each other, had earned Allan's respect. Allan respected Robin for giving up everything to help the poor--people who were exactly the same as Allan would have been had he not had a clever mind, nimble fingers, and ambition. Guy had earned Allan's respect by showing him that ambition was not something to be looked down upon, and that he was, as Allan had once told Marian about himself, "not all bad." Of the two, Allan had had more reason to hate Robin, for refusing to forgive his transgressions, or even to hear out why he had sold information to Guy, and for preaching about helping those less fortunate, but not realizing that help could be in the form of offering love and friendship, not just money and food.

Allan had felt torn before about leaving the gang, when Deirdre had told him of their hesitation to rescue him, because of Robin saving his life and limb. Now, seeing Robin hesitate to take his hand in congratulations on finding a way to safety for himself and his family, Allan felt anger—the same anger he had felt in the Trip, the same anger he had felt while standing over a vat of boiling pitch. Robin thought he was better than Allan, of this Allan was sure now. Once, he had thought they might be friends—both of them had similar tastes in women and wit, and were nearly evenly matched in skill with weapons. He knew now that they had never been more than what they always would have been—lord and peasant, master and serf.

Allan stared coldly into Robin's blank face for a moment more before disentangling the teary-eyed Marian. The others were restless, seeming to sense their leader's disapproval; naturally, it was Djaq who threw caution to the wind, stepping up to be the next to hug Allan good-bye.

"Live well," she admonished, then amended at his cheeky look, "Just don't get caught."

As the others stepped forward one by one to shake hands with Allan and say good-bye, Deirdre spoke up, removing Tom from her breast and rising, holding the babe to her shoulder to burp him.

"Hang on a minute. Why are you saying good-bye?

The gang, Allan, and even poor Ruarc, who had to squint to see her from his seat on the ground, all looked at her as though she was insane.

"Exactly where 'ave you been the last day?" Allan asked.

Deirdre frowned, exhaling loudly.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, we have things at the camp, you and me, things that must come with."

Allan shook his head dismissively.

"I ain't got anythin' I'd miss."

"Well, I do."

At Allan's blank look, she added, "My sword."

"Deirdre, maybe you should just give it to someone else," Allan suggested, then stepped back quickly at the incredulous and highly irritated look on his wife's face.

"The only reason you're still standing upright, Allan A' Dale, is because I know how you like a good laugh," Deirdre threatened.

Ruarc looked up painfully at Allan.

"You're in it now, boyo," he croaked hoarsely, before subsiding quickly as he drew Deirdre's wrathful attention. She was just mean enough to yell in his ear; given his current condition, he'd rather be eviscerated.

"We're going back to Sherwood to collect Díoltas, and there's an end to it."

Deirdre had set her chin in that "I'm not backing down" way she had, but Allan was worried about leaving England via Sherwood. What if they were caught _not_ heading toward a port? The prince seemed to be just the untrusting type of man who would have them followed. Ruarc's words seemed to echo his own thoughts as the big warrior sighed resignedly and rose painfully to his feet.

"That's not a good idea, lass," he informed her, wincing at the look on her face, the look that promised retribution.

"And just what do you mean by that, Ruarc O'Brian?" Deirdre intoned dangerously.

"I mean, that you and Allan have your freedom. Don't destroy that over a sword." At Deirdre's incredulous look, he added, "Look, I know what Díoltas means to you, lass, but does the sword mean more to you than your husband and son?"

Deirdre had been looking like she meant to argue with him, but as his words sank in, she quickly deflated. Ruarc laid a gentle hand on her cheek, bringing a frown to Allan's face in the process.

"I'm sure Robin will find a place to Díoltas safe for now. When we get to Ireland, I'll send men to fetch it, but for now we cannot take the chance that the prince is not having us followed." He pulled her chin up, cocking his head and gazing into her eyes. "You know I'm right. Let's just to Ireland to get you and Allan and Tom settled, aye?"

Deirdre nodded, her eyes filling with tears, and then she was crying freely as the gang stepped forward to say their good-byes. Even though it had been an uneasy truce, she had lived with these people for so long that she knew she would feel their loss, particularly Much, with whom she had shared the cooking duties, and the women, who had helped her to bring Tom into the world.

* * *

Guy and Adelaide were soon preparing to leave London themselves. They looked forward to arriving back in Mablethorpe to truly—finally—begin their lives together. Guy, in particular, was looking forward to two things—getting his hands on the servants who had witnessed, and laughed about, Addy's degradations; and oddly enough, with that thought, came the thought of getting her into their own bed and beginning their family. He wanted Addy, as he did every day, but more to the point, he wanted to see her belly grow big with his child. He smiled at her indulgently as he helped her into the carriage that would transport her out of the vile city and into the clean countryside. They had spent last night making up after their tiff over Deirdre, and Guy was in a good mood, looking forward to the future, as their little party exited the gates and headed south and east.

* * *

While Ruarc had insisted—and Allan agreed—that a stop in Sherwood could be suicide, he had conceded that stopping at Dun Aisling, which was on the river Mersey anyway, and therefore on their way to Ireland, would not seem to be a threat to the prince. Spring had definitely taken hold in the Mersey Valley as the little band made their way to Dun Aisling, near the coast. The trip had taken them about a week, and as they came closer to her parents' home, Deirdre's step lightened.

Soon, they were passing through the gates of the O'Niall home and Allan looked around warily, as it seemed a good chunk of the town had turned out and was greeting Deirdre by name. Allan noted that many of them seemed to be younger—teens and children—and that they did not call her "Lady" but merely "Deirdre"; he also noted many blonde, blue-eyed children among the lot.

Deirdre dismounted and Allan followed suit, watching nervously as Deirdre was enveloped by a wave of children, calling each of them by name and exchanging hugs and kisses, and greetings in Irish. Ruarc's deep voice at his shoulder startled Allan.

"Her family can be a bit…overwhelming at first, aye?"

Allan stared up in shocked disbelief at the big man.

"Do you mean to tell me that all of these," he indicated the mass of children surrounding his wife," are her _family_?" he choked out incredulously.

"Oh, aye. Well, most of them appear to be here anyway. And mind, I don't know all of them anymore, just the older ones. I don't see Tighearnán, he'd have fifteen years now, I imagine. And then there's Sorcha and Scoithniamh, the twins." Ruarc had begun ticking off the names on his fingers, watching in amusement as Allan's eyes widened. "There's Ríoghán, Osán, and finally, baby Bláthín. I never did meet the youngest—Lady O'Niall was carrying the child when they left for England."

Allan continued to stare, wide-eyed at Ruarc, utterly amazed. While it was not uncommon for a woman to birth many babies, it was little short of a miracle to have so many survive, along with their mother. Before illness had carried her away, his own mother had birthed two dead children, and he and Tom had had three younger siblings who never made it past their first year.

Mouth wide, Allan turned back to the babbling pack of Irish speakers. Usually, he could manage simple phrases, and often Deirdre's body language had told him if she was cursing him or speaking lovingly to him when she used Irish words on him, but this was far different—this was fast, excited, with sentences begun, but not finished, and very hard to follow. Amidst the gibber of Irish, Allan suddenly recognized his name, and felt a hand on his arm. He looked down at the beautiful face of his wife, suffused with a joy he had rarely seen—and then only in their private moments together. The smile widened across his face and sparkled his eyes to see it. She turned to the group and began the laborious process of the introductions; Allan was utterly overwhelmed by the sheer number of names, as well as the relationships—not all the children were her siblings, although many of them were.

The twins—absolute beauties with long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, pert noses, high cheekbones, and full lips topping off high breasts and curvaceous hips—stepped forward and Allan felt suddenly bad for his father in-law; he prayed fervently that none of his daughters were so ethereally beautiful as these two. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Ruarc's jaw drop, and had a sudden hope that he could be removed of the impediment of the man's interest in his own wife; the girls were of marrying age, after all, and Ruarc was now a lord in his own right. For their own part, the girls seemed to be blushing under the big warrior's intense stare.

"Ruarc, you remember Sora and Nia," Deirdre introduced them by their nicknames.

Allan nudged Ruarc in the ribs. "You're catchin' flies, mate," he whispered as Ruarc recovered himself.

"Aye, but I don't remember them being quite so lovely," the big man offered gallantly, which brought smiles and a slight giggle from each of the young women.

Next came Ríoghán, who, at thirteen, considered himself a man, and was assessing Allan carefully, his frown firmly in place until he had decided that Allan would do for his big sister—for now. He held out a hand carefully in greeting. He had also noted Ruarc's reaction to the twins, and his dark blue eyes cut the lord where he stood as the wind tossed bits of his light blonde hair, pulling it from the tie that held it back from his face.

Osán was twelve, his brother's shadow in every way, right down to the black looks he was shooting at Ruarc. He was much more slight than Ríoghán, but was beginning to get the muscles of a man.

Bláthín hid in the shadows of her twin sisters, peering out shyly from behind them; her eyes were a lighter blue, her hair a darker blonde, but her face also showed the promise of the stamp of beauty that the O'Nialls seemed to place on every one of their children.

The other children were presented as well—children Ruarc had never met, who had been born on English soil; he and Allan were hard-pressed to remember all their names, but they each smiled up at the men and at their oldest sister in awe. There was Urard, who at ten, was already as tall as Ríoghán; Tadhg, who was small and slight; Sláine, whose apple cheeks glowed with life; seven year-old Muirne, who grinned impishly at the men; Lochlann, who was as big and strapping a six year-old as the men had ever seen; and finally, Fearchar, who was talking to anyone and everyone who would listen.

A handsome, mature woman, who had once been a great beauty, soon appeared; she smiled warmly at Deirdre, holding out her arms.

"Máthair!" Deirdre ran into the embrace of Brianna O'Niall, and the two of them were soon chattering and making faces at baby Tom. Beside the older woman, and slightly behind her stood a young man whose posture proclaimed him her protector. The young man frowned at Deirdre as she handed the baby to Brianna and wrapped him in a loving hug. Deirdre stepped back and clapped the boy across the head playfully.

"Stop being so serious, Nan," she admonished. "Now give your sister a hug or I'll tell everyone the stories of how I used to change your nappies. _And_ what was in them…"

"Deed, no!" The young man quickly moved into Deirdre's open arms, his eyes wide in horror as he held her and kissed her cheek, his composure lost under his big sister's teasing threat.

Brianna moved to hug Allan before turning to gather up the other children, rounding them up to bring them in to supper; as she turned in profile, Deirdre noted her mother's slightly rounded belly.

"Mam! You're breeding again!"

"Aye, well. You and your husband were…an inspiration…to your father and me. Plus, you know how it is—he's home so little that when he is, we've catching up to do," Brianna winked at her daughter, who, only a year or so before, would have turned the same shade of green as the older children now were doing.

Deirdre turned her smile from her mother to her husband, squeezing his hand. "Aye, I know what you mean."

Quickly, Allan began thinking of a naked Sheriff of Nottingham, in an effort to avoid embarrassing himself in front of the O'Niall brood as the group moved off toward the large manor that stood in the middle of the dun.

* * *

**The O'Niall children's names:**

**Tighearnán (Male, pron. TEER nawn, means "lord")**

**Sorcha (Female, pron. SUR a ka, means "bright, radiant"**

**Scoithniamh (Female, pron. SKUH nyee uv, means "shining, radiant blossom")**

**Ríoghán (Male, pron. REE awn, means "little king")**

**Osán (Male, pron. US awn, means "little deer")**

**Bláthín (Female, pron. BLAW heen, means "little flower")**

**Urard (Male, pron. UR urd, means "very tall")**

**Tadhg (Male, pron. TYG, means "poet")**

**Sláine (Female, pron. SLAWN ya, means "health")**

**Muirne (Female, pron. MWIR nyeh, means "high spirited, festive")**

**Lochlann (Male, pron. LAKH lin, means "a Viking")**

**Fearchar (Male, pron. FAR char, means "friendly")**


	58. Chapter 58: Brighter Futures

Chapter fifty-eight: Brighter futures

Guy and Adelaide arrived in Mablethorpe in the middle of the third day after leaving London. The weather had been mild for their trip, the clean air of the countryside bracing, but with so many other people about—guards, servants, and the like—they had been unable to express their love for one another, and the anxiety they felt was due solely to that fact. The sun was shining, the sky was a bright blue dotted with fluffy white clouds which billowed about lazily on the breezes from the ocean, while the ocean herself bathed them in the saltiness it shared with the air, the rhythm of the waves—barely heard yet—was a calming background noise. To the north of Mablethorpe lay her fields, with workers moving about purposefully, to the east could be seen some of the returning fishing boats, to the south and just before them the livestock grazed contentedly. They were home.

For Guy, the security of it swelled his chest with pride—that his family would never have to struggle the way he and Isabella had. He had already spoken to the prince about ensuring the land passed on to any of their issue should something happen to Addy and him, and had legal papers drawn up and signed as further surety.

For Addy, the dark days of Lord Henry were over, and she was determined to fill this home with love and laughter. She smiled, thinking of the Queen Anne's Lace seeds she had thrown down the privy in London that last day there before she and Guy had made up from their disagreement. She hoped that soon, she would be giving him good news. Guy was fiercely protective, with a gentle streak that he did not care to display, but she knew he would make a good father.

They urged their horses down the last hillock and through the gates, although the horses needed little urging with the smell of grain so close by. Guy helped Addy dismount in front of the manor, and as the stableman led the horses off, he put Addy's arm through his and smiled down at her. The reeve and the butler were both just inside the door, waiting to greet their mistress and their new master; they had already met Guy, but that had only been for a day or so while taxes were quickly collected for their trip to London.

While Addy went to the kitchen to speak to the cook about supper and about bringing water to their room so that they could wash the dirt of the road from their bodies, Guy turned to the two men in charge of the manor and her environs.

"Pass the word along. I realized that while Sir Henry was lord here, certain things took place involving my lady wife, and that sometimes those things were commented on. Those who were amused by the sufferings of Lady Gisbourne will be found out and punished—wagging tongues are removed, are we in accord?"

The two men nodded their heads solemnly; they had not, of course, laughed at their lady's expense—she was kind and Lord Henry had been cruel beyond measure. They knew of people who had laughed, and they had punished those people themselves when they had caught them. Some of those people were still at Mablethorpe, although the worst of them had been sent away when Lady Adelaide had been freed from her former husband.

"Those who wish to escape this fate must be gone by week's end. They will leave with nothing save the clothes on their backs or they will be hunted down for thievery, and sentenced accordingly. I am not Lord Henry, but do not for one moment think that means I am soft. I will kill anyone who insults my wife—slowly and painfully, understood?"

The reeve and the butler swallowed convulsively—they understood, and were glad they had only ever shown their lady sympathy. That lady came out now from the back of the manor and walked calmly up to her new husband, placing her hand in his—something she would never have done with Lord Henry. That one small gesture told the two older men a lot about their new master's character. For him to have been able to overcome the Lady Adelaide's warranted fear of men meant that there must be good in him, despite his being a noble.

"You are dismissed. I will speak with you both later," Guy dismissed them gruffly.

Adelaide looked up at her husband, watching from the corner of her eye as the kitchen maids carried buckets of water up the stairs, having enlisted some strong men to help wrestle the bathing tub up as well.

"I thought you might like to bathe after so many days on the road, My Lord," she told him formally. Guy knew it was because there were so many eyes and ears about that she was speaking this way. He moved up the stairs and sat in a chair in their room sipping the wine Adelaide had also sent for while he waited for the maids to finish filling the tub. As the maids left, Adelaide turned to go as well, nervous about the servants seeing her in any sort of compromising position after all the compromising positions Lord Henry had purposely exposed her to with them.

"Adelaide," Guy called softly.

She turned to look back at him and he could see the fear reflected in her eyes. He held out his hand to her, asking her to take it.

"Stay with me?"

Addy turned her head uncertainly toward the door.

"Addy. Please."

Guy was nearly bursting with impatience and the need to lie with his wife, no matter that supper had yet to be served. It had been too many days and his body ached for her, propriety be damned. He looked at her, standing there so torn between the need to leave and the desire to stay, and he sighed deeply.

"Go. I'll see you at supper. Just send someone up to help me with my bath when you get downstairs, all right?"

Addy's body visibly relaxed and she left, closing the door behind her. Guy growled in frustration, swiftly unclothing himself and stepping into the steaming tub. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think of something other than Addy's sea-green eyes, her generous mouth, the fall of her long brown hair. Soon, he was in the half-sleep of deep relaxation as the hot water worked on his sore muscles. He didn't hear the door open and shut once more, nor the soft pad of slippered feet, the sound of cloth falling to the floor. His eyes flew open at the feel of feet beside his legs and the gently sloshing of the water as it was disturbed.

"Addy?" he inquired sleepily, thinking he was dreaming and swearing that he was a sad man if so, to want her so badly that his dreams seemed so real.

"Shhhh…" Addy placed a finger on his lips and lowered herself to his lap before placing a gentle kiss on his mouth.

Guy's hands caught her hips as she stroked herself along his length slowly; he groaned as she lifted up for a moment to take him into her lush warmth.

"I thought…" he began, confused.

"I know. I'm sorry, Guy. I told you how Lord Henry behaved with me around the servants—how he would invite them in while he was taking me, and demand that they stay and wait until he was done. His behavior embarrassed me, Guy. But as you have pointed out many times, you are not Lord Henry. When I stepped into the hallway, I started to walk away. I walked down the stairs to go and fetch a body servant for you. I couldn't do it. The look on your face—the need, the pain when you let me go, made me realize something. I love you, Guy, and I don't care if the servants know it."

Guy's smile lit his face at Addy's words, but soon his expression turned serious as his wife began riding him, splashing water on the stones by the fireplace as she cried out her pleasure.

* * *

Summer was fading into the cool colors of autumn at Mablethorpe. Sir Guy of Gisbourne, Lord of Mablethorpe was directing the harvest before going to check on his smaller holding of Locksley to the north and west. He would return before winter closed the roads, so that he could spend his first Christmas with his wife at their home; spring would find him returning to Locksley to check on the revenues. The day was drawing to a close, and so as the sky turned to deep purple and pink and orange, and the breeze kicked up, he mounted his stallion to call the men in from the fields before returning to his manor.

Dismounting, he strode inside to the warmth of the air and the smells of roasting meat. His wife Adelaide was just coming from the kitchen area, having checked on the cook to see how she was faring. At least a dozen servants had simply disappeared once their new lord's edict had been passed along: those who had snickered at Lord Henry's abuses of Lady Adelaide could leave or die.

Among those who had left were the cook's entire staff, and Lady Adelaide had wanted to see how the new girls were working out. She looked up as she exited the kitchen to see her husband standing just inside the doorway. It never ceased to amaze her how handsome he could look, even after a long day in the fields. She smiled prettily at him, hiding the nausea her trip to the kitchen had brought on; lately, the warmth and the smells of the food were making her ill, but since the wise woman had told her what it was, she had no worries. Tonight's meal must be special, for tonight she would give her husband the news he had been waiting nearly a year to hear.

Addy moved away from the kitchen and preceded Guy up the stairs to help him wash before dinner. As they entered their room, Addy took the pot from the fireplace where it had been warming water to add to the already cold water in the wash bowl. She replaced the pot and dipped a cloth in the water, ringing it out as she turned to Guy, who had removed his shirt and stood before her in his pants and boots, his nipples hard from the cold.

Guy moved closer to Addy and the warmth of the fire, taking her head in his hand and placing a kiss on her lips that grew in its hunger as the moments passed.

"I've missed you today, Addy," he whispered against her mouth.

"I can tell, darling," she responded, feeling his hard length pressed against her belly.

He chuckled deeply.

"We could skip dinner," he suggested before his stomach protested loudly at the idea.

Addy laughed lightly, pushing him back so that she could wash his chest and arms, his armpits and his belly.

"I don't think so, Guy. I've had cook prepare your favorite—roasted chicken stuffed with rosemary bread and onions, with fish soup to start. She will be most cross if dinner is cold."

Guy smiled at Addy.

"What's the occasion?" he asked in confusion.

"Why must there be an occasion to give my husband his favorite meal?" Addy dried Guy quickly, then reached for a clean white shirt, slipping it over his head as he bent to allow her access.

"There, you look quite handsome again!" she declared, although she found Guy handsome clean or dirty, sweaty or dry, happy or angry. She took her bemused husband by the hand and led him down the stairs to the steaming table-full of food; luckily, the scents did not bother her so much in the more open area of the hall, and she sat next to Guy, waiting until the servants had moved up against the walls to await further orders before she began tearing gingerly at her bread.

Guy tore into the food with gusto—the meal was his favorite and he had worked up an appetite bringing in the harvest this day. When his edict about those who had shamed his wife had first been acknowledged, there had been a large outflow of servants—some had actually witnessed Adelaide's degradations, some were related to people who had and were fearful based on that relationship. In order for the manor to continue, he and Adelaide had had to pitch in with the work until replacements could be found. Guy had discovered that he liked working with his hands, that by day's end, he was exhausted and filled with a feeling of satisfaction over a day well lived. When Mablethorpe's staff was once more at full, Guy and Addy had continued to keep a close hand in the daily running of the manor.

With nearly a whole chicken gone, Guy noticed that Addy was still only picking at a small piece of bread. He stopped chewing and put the meat down, wiping the grease off of his hands and mouth with a cloth from the table.

"What's wrong, Addy? Are you still unwell?"

Guy had noticed that Addy seemed more tired of late, although he was usually out of bed and heading for the fields by the time she woke up and vomited at first light. As Addy sat, looking to her hands in her lap, Guy's frown deepened.

"That's it, Addy, I'm sending for a doctor," he declared hotly, pushing his chair back and standing.

As he rose, Addy whispered, "There is no need, Guy. I have already seen a wise woman."

"And it's obvious the charlatan can do nothing about your condition!"

"There is nothing to do about my condition, Guy."

Adelaide reached up and took his hand, bringing him to his knees before her. At her words, he needed little help in falling—a good breeze would have knocked him down. Addy looked into his eyes, noting the fear there, and realized she had made a mess of things; she decided to let him off the hook quickly.

"There is nothing to do about my condition, Guy because what we have been praying for these many months has finally happened."

At his look of confusion, she added, "I am with child, my love."

Guy swallowed, dipping his head and raising his eyebrows at her, looking up at her from his position on the floor.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper of sound.

Adelaide nodded mutely. "It is why I have waited so long to tell you—I wanted to be certain."

Guy laughed, rising to pull Addy into his arms and twirl her around the hall in sheer joy. Along the walls, the servants smiled at the display for the kind Lord and Lady Gisbourne of Mablethorpe.

* * *

Deirdre and Allan were settling into life at Ruarc's dun , which was south and a bit east of the walled city of Dublin. Close to the newly erected castle of Malahide, Ruarc's home was close to the sea, and yet boasted rolling green hills which supported large herds of sheep, cattle, and horses, as well as cedar and oak trees which were tithed to the king as part of his annual taxes. Red deer roamed the forests and hare abounded.

Ruarc's first order of business once they had arrived back in Ireland had been to have a cottage built for Deirdre and Allan—"a belated wedding present," as he had put it. The cottage was small, only one room with a hearth at the center, and made of wattle and daub with a thatch roof, but it was far more comfortable than a cave or even Will's hide-out. The cottage sat on the outskirts of town, near the forest.

Ruarc put Deirdre to work in his kitchen, and before long, the cook was complaining that Deirdre was too "bossy". Ruarc talked to her about behaving like a proper serf, and for her part, Deirdre did try, but when the older woman would not listen to Deirdre's advice, Deirdre would step in behind her and fix whatever she thought was wrong anyway.

Allan was working in the fields every day and hated it—the back-breaking work, the mind-numbing repetitiveness of it was killing his soul, he was sure of it. He and Deirdre's fates took a turn that would change them forever one warm afternoon in late summer when two things happened: the owner of the pub, who had become fast friends with his best customer, Allan A' Dale, was taken with a summer fever, and, as Allan approached the kitchens for lunch and a chat with his wife, Deirdre A' Dale came flying from the door, head over heels, to land in a puddle on her rear.

"That's it!" she screamed angrily, slamming her fisted hands into the mud and splashing it about. "I rescind my oath to Martin to never hit an old woman!"

She was on her feet in an instant, and back through the doorway, where Allan heard the sounds of screaming and crashing; he stood for a moment indecisively, not really wanting to get in the way of Deirdre's temper, but knowing that if he didn't, there was a good possibility of his wife murdering the cook. Just then, Ruarc rounded the corner and spotted Allan standing back from the kitchen and its noise; he came to stand beside Allan, the men unconsciously mirroring each other with their wide-legged stance and their arms crossed over their chests.

"So, what's happening in my kitchens, A' Dale?"

"It seems Deirdre and your cook are having another row."

"No! Say it isn't so?"

Allan held up his right hand. "God's truth."

"Should we stop it?"

"There are angry women with sharp knives in there. Be my guest."

Ruarc looked around. "Where's Tom?"

"God's balls!" Allan swore.

Now he would at the very least have to go and rescue his son, although the little scamp had every female in the village wrapped around his little finger and it was likely some kitchen girl had already spirited him out of harm's way. He sighed against the knowledge that he had to do his duty anyway and ensure his son's safety

At the doorway, the two men paused.

"You take Deirdre, I'll get Kathleen," Ruarc commanded.

"Why do I have to take Deirdre?" Allan asked.

"She's your wife."

"And she's your _sister_. I have to sleep with her tonight."

"Not if you get her too angry, you don't."

Allan and Ruarc exchanged glares before launching themselves through the door. They stood for a moment, looking at the destruction before they ducked in unison as a pot flew from nowhere, narrowly missing their heads.

"Hey!" Allan yelled.

The two female combatants didn't miss a beat—Deirdre swung at the older woman's head, Kathleen lifted the slender young woman and threw her onto a table which had been covered in flour that now rose like a dust storm in the kitchen. Ruarc launched himself at Kathleen before she could lay hands on the winded Deirdre while Allan took advantage of Deirdre's breathlessness to yank her up and pin her arms behind her back. Soldiers came pouring into the little room, sent from their jobs in field and town by their wives and sweethearts, who had witnessed or heard about the fight; the men had meant to lay odds on the winner, but when they found their lord among the chaos, they decided it would be better to help bring the fight to a close instead.

With the help of at least three men each, Allan and Ruarc managed to truss the women up until they calmed down. Heaving twin sighs of relief that blew out their cheeks, Ruarc and Allan stood with hands on hips, surveying the damage. Broken crockery lay on every flat surface, the tripod for the fireplace was bent, flour and spices coated everything. Tom was nowhere to be seen. Ruarc's face flushed in anger, Allan's in embarrassment.

"What happened?" Ruarc demanded, and then held up his hands as both women began speaking at once. "Enough!" he roared, exasperated beyond limits. "I don't care what happened. I don't care who said or did what to the other one. You two will clean this mess up. Now! Are we understood? These men here will watch you while Allan and I go to discuss your punishments. Don't even think of fighting us," he added at Deirdre's black look. He and Allan glared at the women as they left them to their cleaning under the watchful gaze of the men.

As they walked down the path away from the manor, one of the other kitchen girls walked up to Allan, holding out baby Tom who was fast asleep. Allan gently took his son, who squirmed and mewled, trying to latch on to his father's chest before sighing in frustration and popping a thumb into his mouth, suckling deeply. The men were safely in the village before they let the smiles come to their faces and the laughter erupt from their bellies, although Allan kept his quiet and shushed Ruarc so they did not wake Tom.

"What are we going to do with them, Allan? I love Deirdre's cooking, and I think she likes working in the kitchen, except she's never been very good at taking orders."

"No! Deirdre? Are you sayin' _my_ wife 'as a problem takin' orders?" Allan mocked and the two men grinned at one another.

"All I know is, I was supposed to get some broth for Mike, what runs the Lia Fail. He ain't feelin' so good," Allan added

"So who'll serve drinks tonight? His wife passed last spring from the ague." Ruarc looked truly horrified. While he could easily drink in his hall, he enjoyed the camaraderie to be found in the Lia Fáil.

Allan looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. He had spent a lot of time in pubs before he had met Robin, and was familiar with their workings from the other side of the table. _How hard could it be to serve a few drinks?_ he thought.

"I don't rightly know. I guess I could fill in for 'im. He's been real sweet to me and Deirdre, 'e 'as."

Ruarc turned swiftly, grabbing Allan's arm and nearly upsetting the baby in the process.

"That's it! You and Deirdre can fill in for Mike until he's on his feet again!"

"And then what?" Allan would be happy to escape the fields, but not so happy if he had to return to tilling the soil and harvesting the crops.

"And then, maybe you could stay on. Mike's got no family—his Maire never bore him any children, and his nephews all have trades already. I bet he'd let you run the place for a cut of the profits," Ruarc answered.

Ruarc's eyes were glowing with excitement at the idea. It had not escaped his notice that Allan was not happy working the fields, particularly since Deirdre had pointed it out in no uncertain terms on more than one occasion. She had reminded Ruarc that if Allan wasn't happy, she wasn't happy, and if she wasn't happy… Ruarc had quickly found himself plagued by headaches, most of them Deirdre-shaped. He had been searching for some other way for Allan to contribute to the dun.

Allan's eyes widened a bit, his eyebrows raised as he thought of the idea as it would spin out beyond a couple of days. He liked pubs. He hated working in the fields. Deirdre would be able to cook without someone telling her how to, and they could even make some money instead of just trading their labor to Ruarc.

"We'd 'ave to give you some of the extra tax money Prince John wants for us," Allan responded, nearly clapping his hand over his mouth at the unexpected words he had spoken. He sometimes hated the honesty and the need to clear all debts that fatherhood was constantly bringing out in him. It had certainly been easier to be single and—to the best of his knowledge—childless.

"That goes without saying." Ruarc winked at Allan, having noted the man's shock at his own words.

Allan recovered quickly, smiling ruefully at the man who had saved Deirdre and him, the man with whom he was building a slow friendship.

"Let's go talk to Mike, eh?" the former outlaw suggested.

Ruarc grinned back and the two men strode off together toward the Lia Fail Pub as the sky began to mist above them.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there it is, the end of "Den of Thieves." I hope you have all enjoyed & I will beg one last time for reviews, particularly from some of you who may have been waiting to review the whole story at once. If you did enjoy, please check the "Author Alert" box in the review box. I am planning a possible third installment of the stories of Allan & Deirdre and Guy & Adelaide, but am currently spinning my writing wheels, trying to find a purchase from which to begin. It may be a month or more before the next story is forth-coming. **

**Also, keep an eye out for me on fictionpress dot com, fanfic's sister sight for original fic, just in case my muse leads me there first. You will need to re-register on their site, but until I publish there, you will just have to check back every so often; once I publish, you can again choose "Author Alert" in the review box. In the meantime, anyone who wants to keep up with me on Live Journal can find me under the name "whytewytch4" on that site.**

**To all those who have reviewed throughout--thank you! Your words, while not always positive, helped me to hone this story, while your praise let me know I was on the right path. Particular thanks to andie14, who has reviewed every story I have written to date, except for one, and to taterbug, who joined in with "Den" but has been a faithful reviewer of every chapter.**

**WHATSTHEFRACAS, YOU ARE THE BEST BETA IN THE WORLD!!! Couldn't have done it without you, girl!**

**If you are celebrating any holidays as the old year closes and the new one begins, I wish you peace and joy, love and happiness.**

**Whytewytch (December 20, 2009) **


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